M\ 


4  I'^'ft'w 


^ 


W^'^'7iJ^ri^''Kmmimmwmmm^-' 


X'^'L^. 


V-^V 


'^<^- 


¥^^i^ 


V" 


'^ 


N 


^- 


IW6$'i 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2008  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fordailybreadotliOOsien 


v. 


/.J'  (Jm^^C. 


FOR  DAILY  BREAD 

A  Story  from  the  Life  of  American 
Emigrants 


j^^^A 


Copyright,  1896,  by  Henry  Altemus. 


For  Daily  Bread. 


OINUI, 


oclioo^m 


CONTENTS 

For  Daily  Bread           ...  x 

An  Artist's  End            .         .         .  15 j 

A  Comedy  of  Errors             .        .  171 


FOR   DAILY   BREAD. 

I. 

THE  VOYAGE. 

A  German  steamer,  the  "Bliicher," 
from  Hamburg,  was  on  her  way  to 
America. 

It  was  the  fourth  day  of  her  voyage 
and  the  second  since  she  had  left  the 
green  shores  of  Ireland  behind  and  was 
on  the  open  sea.  From  her  deck,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  nothing  was  to 
be  seen,  but  an  expanse  of  greyish-green 
water,  ploughed  into  deep,  foam-crested 
furrows,  getting  darker  in  the  distance 
and  melting  intO'  the  horizon  covered 
with  fleecy  clouds. 

The  reflection  of  the  clouds  lent  here 
and  there  a  pearly  tint  to  the  water,  on 
the  background  of  which  the  black  hull 
3 


4  For  Daily  Bread. 

stood  out  in  sharp  distinct  lines.  Her 
head  was  toward  the  "West  and  she  rose 
and  fell  steadily  with  the  waves;  at 
times  she  seemed  to  disappear  altogether 
and  then  again  rose  almost  clean  out  of 
the  water.  Waves  went  to  meet  her 
and  she  went  towards  the  waves  cutting 
them  in  two  with  her  bow.  A  long 
streak  of  churning,  milky  water  trailed 
like  a  serpent  behind  and  a  few  seagulls 
followed  screaming  in  her  wake. 

The  wind  was  favorable,  the  ship  was 
going  at  half  speed  and  had  hoisted  all 
her  canvas.  The  weather  seemed  to 
improve  steadily,  and  long  rifts  of  blue 
sky  appeared  between  the  ragged  clouds. 
There  had  been  a  strong  wind  blowing 
ever  since  the  "Bliicher"  left  Hamburg, 
but  no  gale.  The  wind  was  due  west, 
but  fell  at  intervals;  then  the  sails  came 
down  with  a  heavy  flapping  sound  but 
soon  filled  again.  Sailors  dressed  in 
blue  jerseys  tightened  or  slackened  the 


The  Voyage.  5 

ropes  with  the  monotonous  chanting  of 
"Yo-hoy!  Yo-hoy!"  stooped  and  rose  in 
time  to  the  doleful  tune,  which  mingled 
with  the  boatswain's  shrill  whistle  and 
the  fitful  puffing  and  breathing  of  the 
funnel. 

Attracted  by  the  improving  weather, 
most  of  the  passengers  had  come  on 
deck.  There  were  the  dark  overcoats 
and  hats  of  the  first-class  passengers;  on 
the  forecastle  the  motly  crowd  of  steer- 
age passengers,  mostly  emigrants.  Some 
sat  on  benches  with  short  clay  pipes  be- 
tween their  lips,  others  were  stretched 
out  at  full  length  looking  down  into 
the  water. 

Several  palefaced  women  with  child- 
ren in  their  arms,  and  tin  mugs  fas- 
tened to  their  belts  crouched  wherever 
there  was  room.  Young  men,  steady- 
ing themselves  with  difficulty,  walked 
up  and  dovm  and  staggering  at  every 
step,  sang:  "AVo  ist  das  deutsche  Vater- 


6  For  Daily  Bread. 

land?"  and  may  be  tlioiight  tliat  most 
likely  they  would  never  see  tliat  Vater- 
land  again,  but  nevertheless  looked 
cheerful  enough. 

At  a  little  distance  from  all  these 
people  stood  two,  who  seemed  more 
lonely  and  sadfaced  than  the  others;  an 
elderly  man  and  a  young  girl.  They 
did  not  speak  German,  hence  their  soli- 
tude among  strangers.  They  were 
Polish  peasants. 

The  man's  name  was  Laurence  To- 
porek,  and  the  girl,  his  daughter,  Ma- 
risha.  They  were  going  to  America 
and  had  only  now  come  on  deck  for 
the  first  time.  On  their  faces,  yellow 
from  recent  sickness,  was  an  expression 
of  mingled  terror  and  astonishment. 
They  looked  around  with  frightened 
eyes,  at  their  fellow-passengers,  at  the 
sailors,  the  panting  funnel,  and  the  big 
waves  which  sent  heavy  spray  and  foam 
over  the  gimwales.     They  did  not  dare 


The  Voyage.  7 

to  speak  even  to  each  other.  Laurence 
clutched  at  the  railing  with  one  hand, 
holding  his  square  cap  with  the  other, 
lest  the  wind  should  cany  it  away; 
Marisha  held  fast  to  her  father,  and 
when  the  ship  heaved  more  violently 
she  clung  closer  to  him,  uttering  low 
exclamations  of  terror.  After  some- 
time the  old  man  broke  the  silence: 

"Marisha!" 

"Yes,  Dad?" 

"Dost  thou  see  all  that?" 

"Yes,  I  see." 

"Art  astonished?" 

"I  am.  Daddy." 

But  she  w^as  still  more  terrified  than 
astonished  at  what  she  saw,  and  old 
Toporek  the  same.  Fortunately  for 
them,  the  waves  grew  less  in  size,  the 
wind  fell  altogether,  and  the  sun  burst 
through  the  clouds.  "When  they  saw 
the  sun  once  more  they  felt  cheered  and 
comforted,  and  thought  it  were  the  same 


8  For  Daily  Bread. 

as  shone  at  home.  Everything  was 
strange  and  new  to  them,  and  only  the 
life  and  warmth  giving  orb  seemed  an 
old  friend  and  benefactor. 

In  the  meantime  the  sea  had  grown 
smoother.  At  the  shrill  whistle  from 
the  upper  deck,  the  sailors  nimbly 
climbed  the  rigging  to  furl  the  sails. 
The  sight  of  these  men  hanging  in  mid 
air  impressed  the  two  with  awe. 

"Our  lads  could  not  do  that,"  said  the 
old  man. 

"If  the  Germans  can  do  it,  ours  could. 
Jan  could  do  it,"  relied  Marisha. 

"Which  Jan,  Sobkoff?" 

"'No,  not  Sobkoff.  Jan  Smolak,  the 
groom." 

"He  is  a  smart  lad,  I  know,  but  put 
him  out  of  thy  head  Marisha.  Thou 
art  going  to  be  a  lady,  and  he  is  noth- 
ing but  a  groom,  and  not  likely  to  be 
anything  more." 

"He  has  got  his  own  bit  of  land." 


The  Voyage.  9 

"He  has — at  Lipiuce." 

Marisha  was  silent  after  that  and 
thought  with  a  longing  sigh,  if  Heaven 
had  decreed  it,  all  would  come  right  in 
the  end.  The  sails  had  been  furled 
and  the  screw  began  to  chum  the 
waters,  and  the  heaving  of  the  ship  had 
almost  ceased.  In  the  distance  the  sea 
looked  smooth  and  blue. 

People  began  to  come  up  more  and 
more  from  the  steerage  quarters:  lab- 
orers, German  peasants,  idlers  and  va- 
grants from  different  towns,  all  in  search 
of  a  fortune — but  not  of  work ;  the  deck 
became  crowded,  therefore  Laurence 
and  his  daughter,  so  as  not  to  be  in 
in  anybody's  way,  went  to  the  farthest 
end  of  the  bows  and  sat  down  on  a  coil 
of  rope. 

"Dad,  shall  we  be  on  the  water  much 
longer?"  asked  Marisha. 

"How  can  I  know  ?  If  I  speak  to 
anybody    they  stare  at  me  and    don't 


10  For  Daily  Bread. 

seem  to  understand  a  Christian  lan- 
guage." 

"And  how  shall  we  be  able  to  make 
ourselves  understood  in  America  T' 

^TDid  they  not  tell  us  that  out  there 
are  thousands  of  our  people?" 

"Daddy!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"It  is  all  very  strange  and  wonder- 
ful, but  it  is  best  at  home,  at  Lipince." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  child!" 

After  a  while  Laurence  added  as  if 
to  himself: 

"It  is  the  will  of  God." 

Tears  sprung  to  the  girl's  eyes  and 
then  both  grew  silent  and  thoughful, 
their  minds  wandering  back  to  the  past. 
Laurence  pondered  how  it  had  come  to 
pass  he  was  on  his  way  to  America.  It 
had  happened  in  this  way.  Some  six 
months  before  his  cow  had  strayed  into 
a  neighbors  field,  and  been  impounded. 
The  man  who  had  taken  the  cow  claimed 


The  Voyage.  11 

three  roubles  for  the  damage  don©  to 
his  clover.  Laurence  refused  to  pay, 
and  they  went  to  law.  The  case  did 
not  come  on  for  some  time.  The  neigh- 
bor did  not  claim  damages  alone,  but 
also  for  the  keep  of  the  cow,  and  the 
costs  grew  larger  every  day.  Laurence 
was  obstinate  and  did  not  like  parting 
with  the  money.  He  had  spent  a  good 
deal  already  on  the  law  suit,  which 
dragged  on  for  a  long  time,  the  ex- 
penses increasing  steadily.  At  last  Lau- 
rence lost  his  case.  He  owed  the  Lord 
knows  how  much  for  the  c^w  already; 
and  as  he  had  not  money  enough  to  pay 
the  full  claim,  they  took  his  horse,  and 
sentenced  him  to  a  term  of  imprison- 
ment for  resisting  the  law.  Toporek 
writhed  in  despair.  The  harvest  was 
at  hand,  when  he  and  his  horse  would 
be  wanted.  He  was  late  with  his  crops, 
the  rain  ruined  the  grain;  all  this 
through  the  bit  of  damage  in  a  neigh- 


12  For  Daily  Bread. 

bor's  field.  All  his  money  had  gone, 
his  harvest  was  mined,  and  beggary 
stared  him  in  the  face. 

As  he  had  been  a  well-to-do  peasant, 
lucky  so  far  in  all  his  ventures,  he  grew 
desperate  and  began  to  drink.  At  the 
inn  he  fell  in  with  a  German,  who  under 
pretext  of  buying  flax,  persuaded  peo- 
ple to  emigrate.  The  German  began 
telling  him  wondrous  things  about 
America,  and  said  that  he  could  there 
get  more  land  than  the  whole  village 
owned,  together  with  pasture-land  and 
woods.  Toporek's  eyes  sparkled  with 
anticipation.  It  was  too  good  to  be 
time,  and  he  would  not  have  believed 
it,  had  not  the  dairy-farmer,  a  Jew, 
confirmed  the  German's  tale,  and  said 
he  knew  from  his  nephew  that  land 
could  be.  got  from  the  government  for 
the  asking.  The  German  dangled  great 
estates  before  his  eyes.  They  tempted 
the  man  imtil  he  was    fairly    caught. 


The  Voyage.  13 

Why  should  he  stop  here?  Had  he  not 
already  lost  as  much  money  as  would 
have  enabled  him  to  keep  a  helper? 
Should  he  wait  here  until  the  last  of 
the  property  was  gone  and  then  take  the 
beggar's  staff  and  sing  at  the  church 
dooi"s?  "N^o!  we  have  not  come  to 
that/'  he  thought,  and  grasped  the  Ger- 
man's hand;  sold  out  at  Michaelmas, 
took  his  daughter,  and  here  he  was  on 
his  way  to  America. 

But  the  journey  had  depressed  him 
not  a  little.  To  start  with,  they  had 
fleeced  him  at  Hamburg ;  on  the  ship,  he 
was  one  among  a  crowd  of  steerage 
passengers.  They  pushed  him  out  of 
the  way  like  a  thing  of  no  account  and 
mocked  at  the  language  they  could  not 
understand.  At  dinner  time,  when  all 
swarmed  round  the  cook  with  their  tin 
mugs,  they  were  crowded  out  and  often 
went  hungry.  The  heaving  of  the  ship 
and  sight  of  that  great  waste  of  water 


14  For  Daily  Bread. 

terrified  tliem.  They  were  ill-at-ease 
and  lonely  among  a  crowd  of  strangers. 
Beside  God's  protection  there  was  no 
other.  Lanrence  tried  to  look  uncon- 
cerned before  his  daughter.  "With  his 
cap  put  jauntily  on  one  side,  he  bade 
her  look  at  things  and  marvel;  he  him- 
self marv^elled  at  what  he  saw,  but  at 
the  same  time  his  heart  quaked  with 
fear  lest  those  heathens,  as  he  called 
his  fellow  passengers,  should  throw  him 
into  the  water,  or  make  him  change  his 
faith,  or  sell  his  soul  to  the  evil  one. 

That  very  ship  that  went  on  churning 
the  water  night  and  day,  breathed  and 
panted  like  a  living  thing,  and  like  a 
dragon  trailed  behind  her  a  hail  of  fiery 
sparks  seemed  to  him  an  unholy  thing. 
These  childish  fears,  though  he  did  not 
acknowledge  them  before  his  daughter, 
weighed  heavily  on  his  heart;  for  this 
Polish  peasant,  torn  away  from  his 
homely  nest,  was  verily  a  mere  helpless 


The  Yoj£ige.  15 

child  with  nobody  but  God  to  prote<?t 
him.  He  could  neither  understand  nor 
take  in  what  he  saw,  and  sitting  with 
bowed  head  on  the  coil  of  rope,  his 
heart  full  of  nameless'  trouble,  he  heard 
the  wind  whistle  the  name  of  "Lipince! 
Lipincel"  The  sun  looked  down  at  him 
and  said :  "How  goes  it  Laurence  ?  I  have 
been  in  Lipince."  But  the  screw  went 
round  and  round  and  churned  the  water, 
and  the  smokestack  breathed  and  panted 
like  twO'  evil  spirits  that  dragged  him 
further  and  further  away  from  home. 
Other  memories,  like  seagulls  follow- 
ing the  ship,  fluttered  around  Marisha. 
Hei'  thoughts  carried  her  back  to  a  quiet 
evening,  shortly  before  their  departure, 
when  she  went  to  the  well  to  draw 
water.  Raising  the  heavy  crane  she 
sang : 

".Tan  was  driving  his  team 
Whilst  Kasia  went  to  the  well." 

It  was  a  sad  little  voice  not  unlike 


16  For  Daily  Bread. 

the  howling  of  the  swallows  before  set- 
ting ont  for  their  long  journey.  FroDi 
the  verge  of  the  wood  came  a  long 
whistle.  It  was  Jan  Smolak's  signal 
that  he  had  seen  the  crane  moving. 

Presently  the  dull  thud  of  horses, 
hoofs  w^as  heard,  and  then  he  himself 
appeared,  jumped  from  the  foal  and 
what  he  said  seemed  to  her  now  like 
some  far  off  music.  She  shuts  her  eyes, 
andlistens  again  to^Jan's  trembling  voice 
"If  thy  dad  proves  obdurate,  I  shall 
throw  up  my  place,  sell  the  cabin,  the 
bit  of  land,  and  follow  thee.  Marisha, 
where  thou  art,  I  shall  be;  as  the  birds 
fly  towards  the  sun,  I  will  fly  unto  thee ; 
I  will  sail  doAATi  the  stream  like  the  wild 
drake,  or  like  the  gold  ring  roll  down 
the  road  until  I  find  thee,  my  own. 
How  could  I  live-  without  thee  Mary? 
Thy  ways  will  be  my  ways,  what  hap- 
pens to  thee  will  happen  to  me,  in  life 
and  death  we  w^ill  be  one;  and  as  I  have 


The  Voyage.  17 

vowed  here  before  the  Avell,  may  God 
desert  me,  if  I  desert  thee,  my  own 
love." 

Recalling  these  words  Marisha  saw 
before  her  the  old  well,  the  red  moon 
rising  beyond  the  woods,  and  the  manly 
figure  of  Jan  Avowing  to  be  faithful. 

These  thoughts  carried  hope  and  com- 
fort tO'  her  heart.  Jan  was  finn  and 
steady  and  she  believed  he  would  do  as 
he  promised.  How  she  wished  he  were 
here  listening  to  the  sound  of  the  waves. 
They  would  not  feel  so  forlorn;  he  was 
not  afraid  of  anything  and  always  found 
a  way  out  of  every  difficulty.  AVhat 
was  he  doing  now  at  Lipince  ?  Thei  first 
snow  must  have  fallen  by  this  time. 
Has  he  gone  to  the  woods  with  his  axe 
or  is  he  busy  with  the  horses?  Maybe 
they  sent  him  off  somewhere  with  the 
sledge,  or  he  was  cutting  holes  in  the 
ice  on  the  pond?  Where  was  her  sweet- 
heart now?  And  the  girl  saw  the  pic- 
■> 


18  For  Daily  Bread. 

ture  of  tlie  village:  the  liarcl  snow  creak- 
ing under  the  heels  of  the  passers-bj  ; 
the  ruddy  glow  shining  through  the  leaf- 
less branches,  and  rocks  flying  overhead 
with  their  loud  monotonous  croaking, 
the  smoke  curling  up  from  the  chimneys, 
and  in  the  distance,  the  woods  pow- 
dered with  snow,  reflecting  the  red  light 
of  the  setting  sun. 

Heigho!  and  where  was  she?  Where 
had  her  father's  will  carried  her?  As 
far  as  the  eye  could  see  nothing  but 
water,  ploughed  into  greenish,  foam- 
crested  furrows,  and  on  these  immense 
waters  this  lonely  ship  like  a  stray  bird ; 
the  sky  above,  a  watery  desert  below, 
the  sound  of  wind  and  waves  around 
them,  and  before  them,  maybe,  the  end 
of  the  world. 

Jan,  poor  laddie,  will  you  find  her 
even  if  you  could  skim  through  space 
like  a  falcon,  or  breast  the  ocean  like  a 
fish;  do  you  think  of  her  in  the  distant 
village? 


The  Voyage.  19 

Slowly  the  sim  began  to  sink  and 
dipped  into  the  ocean.  On  the  rippled 
surface  of  the  water  appeared  a  broad 
shining  path  skimmering  and  glittering 
with  the  ever  changing  motion,  then  sud- 
denly flamed  up  and  lost  itself  in  the 
distance.  The  ship,  entering  into  the 
fiery  path,  seemed  to  rush  on  in  pursuit 
of  the  vanishing  sun. 

The  smoke  coming  from  the  funnel 
became  red,  the  sails  and  moist  lines 
changed  into  pink,  and  the  sailors  began 
to  sing.  The  glowing  orb  became  lar- 
ger and  dipped  lower  into  the  sea. 
Presently  only  half  of  it  was  visible, 
then  a  half-circle  of  shooting  flames, 
and  the  whole  west  appeared  like  a  great 
conflagration  without  distinction  of  sky 
or  water;  the  waves  murmured  gently 
as  if  saying  their  evening  prayer. 

At  such  moments  the  human  soul  has 
wings;  long  forgotten  memories  come 
back  in  crowds,  lost  loves  hover  around 
and  we  go  to  meet  them. 


20  For  Daily  Bread. 

Laurence  and  Marisha  both  felt  like 
this,  though  they  were  like  leaves  torn 
from  the  tree  which  has  its  roots  deep 
in  the  soil.  Their  thoughts  are  not  in 
the  future  but  in  the  past.  They  go 
back  to  the  lanes  waving  %vith  golden 
corn  where  the  thatched  cabins  shaded 
with  lime-trees  are  dotted  about;  back  to 
the  soil,  the  great  mother  of  all,  who 
nourished  them  lovingly,  honest  and  be- 
loved above  all  others  on  earth.  That 
what  their  simple  hearts  had  never  felt 
before,  they  felt  now.  Laurence  took 
off  his  cap  and  the  last  rays  of  the  sun 
shone  on  his  grey  hair;  his  brain  was 
working  how  to  clothe  in  words  and  tell 
his  daughter  what  he  felt,  at  last  he 
said: 

"Marisha!  it  seems  to  me  as  if  we  had 
left  everything  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water." 

"Aye,  our  life  we  left  there  and  our 
hearts,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice,  and 


The  Voyage.  21 

raising  her  eyes  the  lips  moved  as  if  in 
silent  prayer. 

It  had  grown  dark.  The  passengers 
gradually  disappeared  below,  but  there 
was  still  an  unusual  stir  on  deck.  After 
a  fine  sunset  often  comes  a  stormy  night. 
The  ofiicers'  whistle  sounded  continually 
and  the  sailors  hauled  in  the  ropes. 
The  last  purple  light  vanished  from  the 
water  and  at  the  same  time  a  mist  rose; 
the  stars  twinkled  in  the  sky  and  then 
disappeared.  The  mist  grew  thicker 
every  minute  and  gradually  veiled  the 
sky,  the  horizon,  and  the  very  ship. 
The  only  visible  thing  was  the  smoke- 
stack and  the  main-mast;  the  figures  of 
the  sailors  looked  like  shadows  in  the 
distance.  An  hour  later  everything  was 
wrapped  up  in  a  white  shroud,  even  the 
lanterH.  on  the  ship's  mast  and  the  sparks 
flying  from  the  funnel. 

The  ship  did  not  roll  any  more.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  waves  had  been  crushed 


22  For  Daily  Bread. 

and  smootlied  under  the  weight  of  the 
mist. 

The  night  came  on  very  dark  and 
quiet.  Presently,  amid  the  stillness 
there  came  mysterious  whispers  from  all 
directions,  then  a  heavy  breathing  as 
from  a  gigantic  breast  drawing  nearer 
and  nearer.  At  times  it  seemed  as  if 
a  voice  was  calling  out  in  the  darkness, 
then  more  voices  wailing  plaintively  in 
the  distance.  The  voices  are  drawing 
nearer  towards  the  ship. 

The  sailors  hearing  them  say  the 
storm  calls  the  winds  from  the  nether 
world. 

The  warnings  became  more'  distinct. 
The  Captain  dressed  in  oilskins  stood 
on  the  quarterdeck;  the  first  mate  took 
his  usual  position  near  the  compass. 
The  passengers  had  all  gone  below. 
Laurence  and  Marisha  descended  to 
their  quarters.  It  was  very  quiet  there. 
The  lamps  fixed    on  the    low    ceiling 


The  Voyage.  23 

threw  a  dim  light  on  the  gToups  crouch- 
ing ne^r  their  berths,  or  close  to  the 
wall.  The  room  was  large,  but  grim 
looking  as  a  fourth  class  waiting  room. 
The  ceiling  sloped  towards  the  bows  and 
the  berths  at  that  end  were  more  like 
dark  holes  than  sleeping  places,  and  the 
whole  compartment  had  the  appearance 
of  an  immense  cellar.  The  air  was  per- 
meated with  the  smell  of  tarred  ropes 
and  damp  mouldiness.  What  a  differ- 
ence between  this  and  a  fii*st  class  saloon. 
A  voyage  of  even  two  weeks  as  steer- 
age passenger  fills  the  limgs  with  poi- 
sonous air,  takes  the  healthy  color  out 
of  the  face,  and  as  often  as  not  pro- 
duces scurvy. 

It  was  not  many  days  since  Laurence 
and  Marisha  had  come  on  board  the 
"Bliicher,"  and  yet  those  who  formerly 
had  known  the  rosy-faced  country  girl 
would  scarcely  have  recognized  her  as 
the  same  person.     Old  Laurence,  too, 


24  For  Daily  Bread. 

looked  very  yellow.  They  looked  worse 
than  anybody  else,  because  for  the  first 
few  days  they  had  not  dared  to  go  on 
deck;  they  thought  it  was  not  allowed; 
they  were  afraid  tO'  move;  how  could 
they  know  what  was  permitted  and  what 
was  prohibited?  They  sat  now,  like  all 
the  others,  near  their  belongings.  The 
whole  place  was  strewn  with  bundles  of 
all  shapes  and  sizes.  Bedding,  gar- 
ments, provisions,  and  tin  vessels  were 
distributed  everywhere  in  little  mounts; 
and  on  these  sat  the  emigrants,  mostly 
Germans.  Some  chewed  tobacco,  others 
smoked  pipes;  the  clouds  of  smoke 
curled  up  tO'  the  low  ceiling  and  dimmed 
the  light  of  the  lamps.  A  few  child- 
ren wailed  in  the  comers;  but  the  usual 
noise  and  racket  had  subsided;  they  all 
seemed  tO'  be  subdued  or  oppressed  by 
the  fog.  The'  more  experienced  emi- 
grants knew  a  storm  was  coming.  It 
was  no  secret  to  all  of  them  that  danger 


The  Voyage.  25 

was  drawing  nigh,  maybe  death 
Laurence  and  Marisha  knew  nothing 
about  it,  though  when  the  hatchway  was 
opened  they  heard  the  sinister  voices 
coming  from  the  boundless  space. 

They  were  sitting  near  the  bows, 
where  the  annoying  motion  of  the  ship 
was  mostly  felt,  and  for  that  reason  they 
had  been  pushed  there  by  their  com- 
panions. The  old  man  was  munching 
a  piece  of  dry  bread,  the  remnant  of 
provisions  brought  from  home,  and 
Marisha,  tired  of  doing  nothing  was 
braiding  her  hair  for  the  night. 

After  a  time  the  dead  silence,  inter- 
rupted only  by  the  cries  of  children, 
seemed  to  attract  her  attention. 

"Why  are  the  Germans  so  quiet  to- 
day?" she  asked. 

"How  can  I  know?"  replied  Laurence. 
"Maybe  it  is  some  religious  ceremony 
of  theirs." 

Suddenly  the  ship  rocked  heavily  as 


26  For  Daily  Bread. 

if  startled  by  a  dreadful  apparition. 
The  tin  vessels  on  the  floor  clattered; 
the  gloomy  light  jumped  and  flared  up, 
and  frightened  voices  asked: 

"What  was  that?" 

There  was  no  answer.  Another  shock, 
more  powerful  than  the  first,  struck  the 
ship;  the  bows  rose  suddenly  and  as 
suddenly  fell  again,  and  a  heavy  wave 
came  crashing  against  the  ship's  planks. 

"A  storm  is  coming,"  whispered  Ma- 
risha,  in  a  terrified  voice.  Then  some- 
thing roared  around  the  vessel  like  the 
wind  among  huge  forest  trees,  or  a  pack 
of  hungry  wolves  in  scent  of  a  prey. 
The  wind  struck  the  ship  once  or  twice, 
and  laid  her  low,  then  turned  her  round, 
raised  her  high,  and  hurled  her  down 
into  the  depths.  The  timber  creaked, 
the  tin  mugs,  kettles,  and  bundles  were 
thrown  from  one  comer  to  the  other. 
Scattered  feathers  were  flying  round, 
some  people  trying  to  steady  them.selves 


The  Voyage.  27 

fell  do"OTi  on  the  floor,  and  the  lamps 
jingled  and  rattled  dolefully. 

Then  came  a  roar,  a  heavy  thud,  and 
the  splashing  of  waves  across  the  deck; 
the  ship  staggered  as  though  in  a  drunk- 
en frenzy,  and  the  wailing  of  the  child- 
ren and  outcries  of  women,  mingled 
with  the  shrill  whistle  from  the  quar- 
terdeck, and  the  heavy  tread  of  the 
sailors. 

"Holy  Mother  of  God!"  whispered 
Marisha. 

The  bows  of  the  ship  where  both  were 
crouching  rose  and  fell  rapidly  and  in 
spite  of  their  holding  on  to  their  berths 
they  were  bruised  against  the  beams. 
The  roaring  of  the  waves  increased,  the 
timber  creaked  and  groaned,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  at  any  moment  the  ship 
would  go  to  pieces. 

"Hold  on  fast,  Marisha,"  shouted  Lau- 
rence, so  as  to  make  himself  heard  amid 
the  uproar,  but  terror  held  him  by  the 


28  For  Daily  Bread. 

throat  as  it  did  the  others.  Even  the 
children  left  off  wailing,  the  women  did 
not  scream  any  longer,  but  all  breasts 
were  heaving  in  silent  anguish,  and  con- 
vulsive hands  clutched  anything  for 
support. 

The  force  of  the  storm  was  still  in- 
creasing. The  elements  had  lashed 
themselves  into  fury;  the  mist  was  mixed 
up  with  the  darkness,  the  clouds  with 
the  water,  the  wind  with  the  foam. 
The  waves  thundered  against  the  ship 
with  the  roar  of  cannons  and  great 
masses  of  seething  water  swept  over  her, 
fore  and  aft. 

The  oil  lamps,  one  by  one,  began  to 
go  out.  It  became  darker  and  darker, 
and  to  Laurence  and  his  daughter  it 
seemed  like  the  darkness  of  death. 

"Marisha,"  began  the  peasant  in  a 
gasping  voice,  because  the  breath  failed 
him,  "Marsiha,  forgive  mei  that  I  led 
you    intO'    destruction.     Our  last  hour 


The  Voyage.  29 

has  come.  We  shall  never  see  the  world 
with  oiir  sinful  eyes  again.  No  holy 
sacraments  for  ns  or  Extreme  Unction; 
not  for  us  to  lie  in  sacred  gTOund,  but 
from  the  waters  we  must  rise  for  the 
Last  Judgment."  When  he  said  this, 
Marisha  understood  that  all  hope  was 
lost.  Various  thoughts  crossed  her 
mind  and  something  seemed  to  cry  out 
aloud. 

"Jan!  Jan!  My  own,  do  you  hear 
me  in  far  off  Lipince?" 

A  teiTible  anguish  tore  her  heart  and 
she  began  to  sob  aloud.  Her  sobbing 
became  audible  amid  the  general  silence. 
Somebody  from  a  corner  called  out :  "Be 
still!"  and  then  as  if  afraid  of  his  own 
voice  relapsed  again  into  silence.  The 
glass  fell  down  from  a  lamp,  and  an- 
other light  went  out,  and  it  became 
darker  still.  The  people  huddled  to- 
gether, to  be  within  reach  of  each  other. 
The  awful  silence   still   reigned  unbro- 


so  For  Daily  Bread. 

ken,  when  amid  the  general  hush,  the 
voice  of  Laurence  rose  in  a  quavering 
but  sufficiently  loud  tone: 

"Kyrie  Eleison." 

"Ohriste  Eleison,"  responded  Marisha 
sobbing. 

"O  Lord,  we  beseech  thee  to  hear  us." 

"O  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us." 

They  were  saying  the  Litany. 

The  voice  of  the  old  man  and  the 
faltering  response  of  the  girl  sounded 
very  solemn  in  the  darkness.  Some  of 
the  emigrants  bared  their  heads.  Grad- 
ually the  two  voices  became  steadier  and 
grew  more  distinct  amid  the  roaring 
element  which  played  the  accompani- 
ment. 

Presently  piercing  screams  came  from 
those  stationed  near  the  hatchway;  the 
door  burst  open,  the  water  rushed  in 
and  flooded  the  compartment.  The 
panic-stricken  women  climbed  on  the 
berths  and  each  thought  their  last  hour 
had  come. 


The  Voyage.  31 

Upon  this  an  officer,  lantern  in  hand, 
appeared  in  the  door,  his  red  face  glis- 
tening with  moisture.  He  explained  in 
a  few  words  that  the  water  had  come  in 
by  accident,  and  that  there  was  but  lit- 
tle danger  for  the  ship  on  the  open  sea. 
About  two  hours  passed.  The  tempest 
still  raged  as  fiercely  as  ever.  The  tim- 
ber creaked  and  strained,  the  ship  rose 
and  fell  but  did  not  founder.  Another 
few  hours  passed,  and  the  grey  dawn 
peeped  through  the  heavily  barred  win- 
doAvs.  The  morning  light  looked  weird 
and  sad  as  if  scared  at  its  own  appear- 
ance, but  it  brought  hope  and  comfort 
to  the  passengers.  After  having  re- 
peated all  the  prayers  they  knew  by 
heart,  Laurence  and  Marisha  crept  to 
their  hearths  and  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep. 

They  were  awakened  by  the  sound  of 
the  breakfast  bell,  but  neither  of  them 
felt  any  desire  for  food.  Their  heads 
felt  as  heavy  as  lead;  especially  the  old. 


32  For  Daily  Bread. 

man's,  whose  brain  was  too  confused  to 
form  a  single  idea.  The  German  who 
persuaded  him  to  emigrate  had  told  him 
he  would  have  to  cross  the  water;  but 
Laurence  had  never  dreamed  there 
would  be  so  much  of  it,  and  that  it 
would  take  so  many  days  and  nights  to 
cross  it.  This  idea  about  crossing  the 
water  was  a  ferry  boat  in  which  he  had 
crossed  the  river  many  times.  Had  he 
known  the  sea  was  so  wide  he  would 
never  have  left  his  native  laud.  Besides 
this,  another  more  terrifying  thought 
tormented  his  brain:  had  he  not  brought 
his  soul  and  that  of  his  daughter  to 
eternal  perdition?  Was  it  not  a  mortal 
sin  for  a  Catholic  from  Lipince  to  tempt 
Providence  by  going  across  that  waste 
of  water  where  they  had  been  now  five 
days  and  nights  without  seeing  any  land 
at  all;  if  there  be  any  to  be  seen?  His 
doubts  and  fears  tore  him  hither  and 
thither,  till  he  could  not  think  anymore. 


The  Voyage.  '^3 

The  storm  raged  forty-eight  hours  and 
then  abated.  They  dared  once  more  to 
venture  on  deck,  but  when  they  saw  the 
huge  mountains  of  water  still  tossing 
wildly  about  the  ship,  they  thought  that 
only  God's  hand,  or  a  superhuman  power 
could  save  them. 

At  last  it  became  fine  again  But 
one  day  passed  after  another  with  noth- 
ing around  them  but  the  deep  waters, 
sometimes  green,  then  blue,  melting 
into  the  distant  horizon.  Clouds  drifted 
along  the  sky  which  took  red  and  golden 
hues  towards  sunset,  and  the  ship  seemed 
to  be  following  in  their  wake. 

Laurence  thought  there  was  indeed 
no  limit  to  the  water,  and  he  resolved 
to  try  whether  he  could  make  himself 
understood  by  somebody  on  the  ship. 

He  lifted  his  square  cap  and  bowing 
very  lowly,  he  humbly  addressed  a  pass- 
ing sailor: 

"Could  the  gracious  Pan  tell  me  how 
3 


34  For  Dail:    Bread. 

soon  we  might  arrive  at  the  other  side 
of  the  water?" 

O  wonder!  the  sailor  did  not  burst 
out  laughing  as  the  others  had  done 
when  Laurence  spoke  to  them,  hut  stood, 
still  and  listened.  A  puzzled  expres- 
sion came  into  his  rugged  face  as  if  he 
tried  hard  to  remember  something  long 
ago  forgotten;  after  a  short  pause  he 
asked : 

"Was?" 

"Shall  we  soon  see  land,  gracious 
Pan?" 

"Two  days,  two  days,"  repeated  the 
sailor  with  some  difficulty,  and  raised 
two  fingers,  to  make  his  meaning  clearer. 

"Thank  you,  humbly." 

""Where  do  you  come  froon?" 

"From  Lipince." 

"Was  is  das  Lipince?" 

Marisha,  who  had  approached  during 
their  conversation,  raised  her  eyes  tim- 
idly to  the  sailor,  and  blushingly  said 
in  a  low  voice: 


The  Voyage.  36 

"We  come  from  Posen,  please  sir." 

The  sailor  looked  thoughtfully  at  the 
girl  and  her  flaxen  hair  and  something 
like  emotion  seemed  to  work  in  that 
rugged  countenance. 

After  a  short  pause,  he  said  gravely: 

"I  have  been  in  Dantzig — I  under- 
stand Polish — I  am  a  Kashuba,  your 
bruder — but  that  was  long  ago.  Jetzt 
bin  ich  Deutsch." 

Saying  this,  he  drew  at  the  line  he 
held  in  his  hand  with  the  monotonous 
sailor's  "Yo-hoy!" 

Henceforth  whenever  Laurence  and 
Marisha  appeared  on  deck  he  greeted 
them  with  a  friendly  smile;  and  they 
rejoiced  at  having  found  a  single  soul 
on  this  German  ship  that  was  well  dis- 
posed towards  them. 

Two  days  later  when  they  came  on 
deck,  a  strange  sight  met  their  eyes. 
They  saw  in  the  distance  something  rock- 
ing on  the  sea,  and  when  the  ship  came 


36  For  Daily  Bread. 

nearer,  thej  saw  it  was  a  red  cask  rocked 
by  the  waves;  in  the  distance  appeared 
another,  a  third,  and  a  fourth.  In  spite 
of  a  slight  mist  the  smooth  water  shone 
like  silver  and  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see,  red  casks  in  numbers  were  floating 
on  the  surface.  Seagulls  with  shrill 
cries  fluttered  about  the  ship,  and  the 
deck  now  became  very  lively.  The 
sailors  began  changing  their  jerseys, 
some  washed  the  deck,  while  others  were 
busy  polishing  the  brasswork,  or  hoist- 
ing the  flag.  Animation  and  joy  pre- 
vailed among  all  the  passengers  who 
crowded  the  deck,  strapping  together 
their  lighter  luggage  and  parcels. 
Seeing  all  this,  Marisha  said: 
"Surely  that  means  we  are  near  the 
end  of  our  voyage,"  and  both  brightened 
visibly. 

And  then  in  the  East  appeared  the 
island  of  Sandy  Hook,  and  another  is- 
land crowned  with  a  huge  building,  and 


The  Voyage.  37 

further  on  appeared  a  thick  mist  or 
cloud,  like  curling  smoke  along  the  shore 
full  of  shadowy  fonnless  shapes.  A 
joyous  murmur  broke  from  the  crowd 
and  many  hands  pointed  in  that  direc- 
tion, even  the  boatswain's  shrill  whistle 
seemed  to  participate  in  the  universal 

joy. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Laurence. 

"New  York,"  replied  the  Kashuba 
sailor,  who  stood  near  him. 

Whilst  the  ship  ploughed  onwards, 
the  misty  cloud  seemed  to  grow  more 
transparent  and  roofs,  chimneys,  and 
pointed  towers  to  emerge  from  it.  Be- 
low, near  the  town  appeared  a  forest  of 
masts,  their  various  colored  flags  flutter- 
ing to  the  breeze  like  so  many  flowea:^ 
on  a  meadow.  The  ship  came  nearer 
and  nearer — and  a  beautiful  towm  seem- 
ed to  rise  almost  out  of  the  water.  A 
great  joy  and  wonder  took  hold  of  Lau- 
rence's heart.  He  raised  his  cap,  opened 


38  For  Daily  Bread. 

his  mouth,  and  looked  and  looked,  then 
turned  to  his  daughter: 

'•'Marisha!  dost  see  all  that?" 

"Oh,  Merciful  Saviour,  what  a  sight!" 

"And  dost  thou  marvel,  Marisha?" 

"I  do,  Daddy." 

Laurence  not  only  mar\^elled  at  what 
he  saw,  but  his  eyes  began  to  shine. 
Seeing  the  green  banks  at  either  side 
of  the  town  and  the  long  stretches  of 
wooded  parks,  he  exclaimed: 

"Well!  God  be  praised!  If  they  will 
let  me  have  some  land  close  to  the  town ; 
with  that  meadow  there,  it  would  be 
convenient  to  the  market.  Come  mar- 
ket-day; I  take  a  cow,  a  pig  or  two,  and 
there  is  a  ready  sale.  There  is  people 
there  as  thick  as  poppy-seed.  In  Po- 
land I  was  a  peasant,  here  I  shall  be  a 
Pan  (master)." 

At  that  moment  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  Batteiy  Park,  its  whole  length, 
and  Laurence  seeing  all  those  trees,  said 
3  S'ain : 


The  Voyage.  39 

"I  shall  bow  deeply  before  the  gra- 
cious commissioner,  and  maybe  give  a 
hint  to  let  me  have  a  bit  of  that  wood- 
land too  or  at  least  to  give  me  pennis- 
sion  to  gather  fuel.  If  we  are  to  be 
land  owners  let  us  have  somethino;  o-ood. 
Early  in  the  mornings  I  should  send  the 
helper  with  timber  to  the  market 
Praised  be  the  Lord!  I  see  the  Gemian 
has  not  deceived  me." 

Marisha  also  smiled  at  the  thoughts 
of  their  great  possession  and  what  her 
Jan  would  say  when  he  found  her  a 
gTeat  heiress. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  boat  with  the 
quarantine  officials  approached  the  ship, 
and  four  or  five  men  came  on  deck. 
Then  another  boat  from  the  city  itself 
bringing  agents  from  hotels,  boarding 
houses,  railways,  and  money-changers, 
all  these  pushing  and  jostling  each  other 
occupied  the  whole  deck.  Laurence 
and  Marisha  did  not  know  what  to  do 


40  For  Daily  Bread. 

with  themselves  amid  that  seething 
crowd. 

The  Kashuba  sailor  advised  Laurence 
to  change  his  money,  and  he  would 
stand  by  him  and  see  that  ho  was  not 
cheated.  This  advice  Laurence  follow- 
ed. For  the  money  he  had,  he  received 
forty-seven  silver  dollars.  Before  all 
this  was  settled  the  ship  had  come  near 
the  town  and  not  only  were  the  houses 
plainly  visible  but  also  the  wharves  and 
the  people  standing  there;  then  passing 
other  greater  and  smaller  ships  they  en- 
tered the  ship's  dock. 

The  voyage  was  over. 

People  streamed  across  the  gangway 
like  bees  out  of  a  hive.  The  firet-class 
passengers  took  the  lead,  after  them 
came  the  second  class,  and  lastly  the 
steerage  passenger.  When  Laurence 
and  Marisha,  jostled  by  the  crowd,  ar- 
rived at  the  gangway  they  foimd  their 
friend,  the    sailor,    standing    close  by. 


The  Voyage.  41 

He  grasped  Laurence  by  the  hand,  and 
said: 

"Bnider,  I  wish  you  Gliick,  and  to 
you  also  maiden.     God  speed  you!" 

"God  bless  you/'  both  said  in  one 
voice  as  there  was  no  time  for  more 
words.  The  crowd  carried  them  along 
the  narrow  gangway  into  the  spacious 
inclosure.  Officials  shook  and  squeezed 
their  bundles,  then  shouted  "all  right," 
and  pointed  to  the  door.  They  passed 
across  and  found  themselves  in  the 
street. 

"Daddy!  what  shall  we  do  now?" 

"We  must  wait  here,"  said  Laurence. 
"The  German  told  me  an  agent  from 
the  government  would  come  to  take  care 
of  us." 

And  so  they  stood  close  to  the  wall 
waiting  amid  the  noise  and  turmoil  of 
the  great  town.  They  had  never  seen 
anything  like  it.  Broad  and  straight 
streets     before     them     crowded     with 


42  For  Daily  Bread. 

people,  as  if  at  a  fair,  and  car- 
riages, laden  wagons  and  om- 
nibuses rolling  along  in  one  incessant 
stream.  Workmen  were  shouting  to 
eacli  other,  vendors  crying  out  their 
wares,  a  very  babel  of  unintelligent 
voices.  Black  people  with  curly  heads 
passed  them  every  moment.  At  the 
sight  of  those,  both  Laurence  and  Ma- 
risha  crossed  themselves  piously.  They 
felt  utterly  bewildered  in  a  place  so  full 
of  noises,  whistlingof  locomotives,  rumb- 
ling of  wheels  and  human  voices. 
Everybody  seemed  in  such  a  hurry,  as 
if  running  away  from  somebody  or  in 
chase  of  something;  there  seemed  to  be 
no  end  to  the  crowd  and  strange  looking 
faces,  black,  olive-colored  or  red.  "Where 
they  were  standing,  near  the  docks, 
everything  was  in  motion;  bales  were 
taken  from  one  ship  to  another,  laden 
carts  arrived  very  minute,  and  wheel- 
barrows rumbled  over  the  bridges;  there 


The  Voyage.  43 

was  an  everlasting  noise  as  in  a  saw  mill. 

Thus  passed  an  hour— and  another; 
they  still  remained  close  to  the  wall, 
waiting  for  the  agent. 

He  looked  strange  and  out  of  place 
there,  this  Polish  peasant,  in  the  long, 
grey  hair,  and  square,  fur-cap;  with  the 
fair-haired  girl,  in  her  close  fitting  bo- 
dice open  at  the  throat,  with  rows  upon 
rows  of  beads  around  her  neck. 

People  passed  them  without  a  look. 
ISTobody  here  wonders  at  new  faces  or 
strange  dresses. 

Another  hour  passed ;  the  sky  became 
overcast,  rain  and  sleet  began  to  fall, 
and  a  cold  wind  blew  from  the  water. 
They  still  waited  for  the  agent. 

The  peasant  is  by  nature  patient  and 
much  enduring,  but  his  heart  began  to 
fail  him.  It  had  been  lonesome  enough 
on  board  ship  among  strangers  and  sur- 
rounded by  that  immensity  of  water. 
They  had  prayed  to  God  to  lead  them 


44  For  Daily  Bread. 

safely  across  the  wateiy  desert.  They 
thought  if  they  once  touched  land  again 
they  would  be'  safe.  And  here  they  were  in 
a  great  town  amid  noisy  crowds,  lone- 
lier and  more  terrified  than  when  on 
board  ship. 

What  should  they  do  if  the  agent 
did  not  come  at  all,  if  the  German  had 
told  them  what  was  not  true? 

At  the  very  thought  their  simple 
hearts  beat  faster,  they  would  be  lost 
indeed. 

And  the  wind  grew  colder  and  the 
rain  soaked  through  their  clothing. 

"Marisha,  art  thou  cold?"  asked  Lau- 
rence. 

"Yes,  Daddy,  very  cold,"  whispered 
the  girl. 

The  town  clocks  again  struck  the 
hour.  It  was  getting  dusky.  The 
movement  in  the  wharves  slackened,  the 
lamps  were  lit  and  a  stream  of  glaring 
light  filled  the  street.     The  dock-labor^ 


The  Voyage.  45 

ers  in  lesser  or  greater  groups,  singing 
and  shouting,  marched  past  them  to- 
wards their  homes  and  rest.  They  had 
nowhere  to  go,  the  cold  pierced  their 
bones,  and  they  began  to  feel  very  hun- 
gry. If  they  had  only  a  roof  over  their 
heads  to  shelter  them  from  the  rain — 
and  the  agent  did  not  come. 

Poor  Laurence,  poor  Marisha,  there 
are  no  such  things  as  agents  to  look  after 
stray  emigTants.  The  German  was 
agent  for  a  steamship  company  that  paid 
him  a  commission  of  so  much  per  head 
for  every  emigrant.  It  was  his  business 
to  send  as  many  on  board  ship  as  he 
could  and  he  did  not  trouble  himself 
about  anything  else^. 

Laurence  felt  that  his  feet  were  giv- 
ing way,  a  great  weight  seemed  to  press 
him  down  to  the  earth;  it  must  be  the 
wrath  of  God  which  hung  over  him,  he 
thought. 

"Daddy!" 


46  For  Daily  Bread. 

'^usli!  be  quiet,  there  is  no  mercy 
for  us." 

"Daddy!  Let  us  go  back  to  Lipince." 

"Let  us  go  and  drown  ourselves!" 

"O,  Merciful  God!"  whispered  Ma- 
risha. 

Laurence's  heart  was  suddenly  stirred 
with  compassion. 

"Poor  orphan!  If  the  Lord  would 
only  show  mercy  to  thee." 

But  Marisha  did  not  hear  his  words; 
her  eyes  had  closed  and  she  slept.  Fev- 
erish dreams  earned  her  back  to  Lipince, 
and  she  heard  Jan,  the  groom,  singing: 

''  'Tis  a  great,  great  lady,  my  blue-eyed  Sue, 
All  her  possessions,  a  garland  of  rue." 

The  pale  morning  light  in  the  New 
York  docks  fell  upon  the  masts,  the 
water,  and  the  emigTant  building.  Then 
it  touched  gently  two  figures  sleeping 
under  the  wall.  Their  faces  looked 
pale,  and  thick  flakes  of  snow  were  cling- 
ing to  their  garments. 


II. 

AT  NEW  YORK. 

In  ISTew  York,  coming  from  Broad- 
way and  passing  Chatliam  Square,  in 
the  direction  of  the  river,  one  crosses 
several  streets.  Here  the  traveler  finds 
himself  in  a  part  of  the  city  more  and 
more  poor,  desolate,  squalid,  and 
gloomy.  The  streets  are  getting  nar- 
row; the  houses,  built  perhaps  by  the 
early  Dutch  settlers,  are  cracked  and 
grown  crooked  from  extreme  old  age; 
the  roofs  are  bent  in,  the  plaster  has 
peeled  off  from  the  walls,  and  the  walls 
themselves  have  sunk  only  part  of  the 
windows  show  above  the  street.  Crook- 
ed lines  take  the  place  of  the  favorite 
straight  lines  of  American  streets,  roofs, 
walls,  all  are  strangely  out  of  shape  and 
piled  up  one  above  the  other. 
47 


48  For  Daily  Bread. 

Being  close  to  the  river,  this  part  of 
the  city  is  scarcely  ever  dry,  and  the 
narrow  streets  thickly  studded  with 
houses  are  like  marshes  full  of  black, 
stagnant  water  with  all  kinds  of  refuse 
floating  on  its  greasy  surface.  There 
is  everywhere  dirt,  untidiness,  and  hu- 
man misery. 

In  these  quarters  are  the  boarding 
houses,  where  for  two  dollars  a  week  bed 
and  food  may  be  obtained;  here  also  are 
the  barrooms,  where  the  whalers  entice 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  to  their 
ships;  here  agents  from  Venezuela, 
Ecuador  and  Brazil  tempt  the  unwary 
to  their  fever-stricken  marshes;  eating- 
houses  where  they  feed  their  customers 
on  salt  junk,  bad  fish,  and  oysters;  gamb- 
ling dens,  Chinese  laundries,  and  va- 
rious sailore'  homes;  here  lastly  are  the 
dens  of  crime,  wickedness,  misery  and 
tears. 

And  yet  this  part  of  the  city  is  very 


At  Nevr  York.  49 

crowded,  for  all  the  emigrants  who  can- 
not find  room  in  Castle  Garden  and  will 
not  or  cannot  go  to  the  lodging  houses 
congregate'  here,  live  alid  mostly  die 
hera  One  might  say  that  if  the  emi- 
grants are  mostly  the  scum  of  European 
countries,  the  inhabitants  of  this  place 
are  the  scum  of  emigration.  The  peo- 
ple here  are  mostly  idle,  partly  because 
they  cannot  obtain  work  and  partly  be- 
cause they  w^ll  not  work.  Night  is 
made  hidious  by  revolver  shots,  cries 
for  help,  hoarse  yells  of  rage,  songs  of 
drunken  brawlers,  or  the  howling  of 
quarreling  negroes.  In  the  daytime, 
prize  fights  and  betting  on  the  princi- 
pals are  the  customary  amusements  of 
the  inhabitants.  Ragged  children  and 
ourly-headed  little  negroes  and  mulat- 
toes  crowd  the  streets,  picking  up  stray 
bits  of  vegetables  or  bananas,  and  ima- 
ciated  begger  women  stretch  out  their 
4 


50  For  Dailj  Bread. 

hands  for  alms  if  a  well  dressed  person 
happens  to  pass  by. 

In  this  earthly  Gehenna  we  find  our 
old  friends,  Laurence  Toporek  and  his 
daughter,  Marisha.  The  lordly  posses- 
sion of  which  they  had  dreamed  had 
vanished  into  air,  and  reality  was  before 
them  in  the  shape  of  a  narrow  base- 
ment, deep  in  the  ground,  with  one 
broken  ^vindow,  the  walls  stained  with 
damp  and  black  fungus,  the  whole  fur- 
niture consisting  of  a  rusty,  battered 
stove,  a  three-legged  chair,  and  a  heap 
of  straw  which  serves  for  a  bed. 

Old  Laurence  on  his  knees  before  the 
stove,  is  searching  among  the  ashes  for 
a  stray  potato,  and  he  returns  to  this 
search  again  and  again;  Marisha  is  sit- 
ting on  the  straw,  her  hands  clasped 
round  her  knees,  her  eyes  staring  on 
the  floor.  She  looks  ill  and  wan.  It 
is  the  same  Marisha,  but  the  once  rosy 
cheeks  are  pale  and  thin,  the  whole  face 


At  New  York.  51 

is  smaller,  and  the  great  blue  eyes  have 
a  vacant  look.  Her  face  shows  the 
effects  of  foul  air  and  scanty  nourish- 
ment. 

They  lived  mostly  on  potatoes;  and 
now  even  these'  have  failed,  and  they 
do  not  know  what  to  do  next,  nor  how 
to  livoi.  It  is  three  months  since  they 
came  into  this  place  and  their  little 
supply  of  money  is  gone.  Laurence 
tried  to  get  work,  but  nobody  could  un- 
derstand what  he  wanted.  He  Avent  to 
the  docks  ready  to  carry  bales,  or  load 
coals  into  the  ships,  but  the  Irishmca 
drove  him  away. 

Of  what  use  was  a  laborer  who  could 
not  understand  what  was  said  to  him. 
Wherever  he  went,  and  whatever  work 
he  tried  to  do,  he  was  pushed  aside  and 
laughed  and  jeered  at  for  his  pains.  His 
hair  had  grown  snow-white  with  sorrow, 
hope'  had  left  him,  his  money  was  gone, 
and  hunger  stared  in  the  face. 


52  For  Daily  Bread. 

At  home,  among  his  own  people,  even 
extreme  poverty  would  have  looked  dif- 
ferent. With  staff  in  hand  and  a  wallet 
slung  across  his  shoulders,  he  would 
have  stood  singing  near  the  cross  on 
the  roadside  or  at  the  church  entrance: 
the  lord  of  the  manor  would  throw  him 
a  coin  from  the  carriage,  the  lady  send 
out  a  rosy-faced  child  who  would  look 
wonderingly  at  the  poor  man  and  put 
money  into  his  hand;  a  peasant  would 
give  him  half  a  loaf  of  bread,  and 
other  bits  of  meat,  he  would  feed  like 
the  birds  that  neither  plough  nor  sow. 
Besides,  standing  under  the  cross,  he 
would  have  God's  protecting  arms  above, 
around  him  the  sky  and  fields,  and  in 
the  quiet  stillness  the  Lord  would  hear 
him  singing  in  his  praise.  Here  in  this 
great  town  there  was  the  continual  noise 
and  rush  of  people  always  in  a  hurry; 
it  seemed  like  a  gigantic  wheel  turning 
round  and  round  and  crushing  all  that 
could  not  come  up  with  it. 


At  New  York.  53 

Heigho!  wliat  a  difference  from  his 
former  life!  At  Lipince,  Laurence 
owned  a  goodish  bit  of  land;  he  was 
elder  in  the  village,  respected  by  every- 
body and  sure  of  his  meals  for  the  next 
day.  On  Sundays  he  stood  before  the 
altar  with  a  wax  candle  in  his  hand; 
and  here,  he  was  the  last  among  people, 
a  stray  dog  in  a  strange  yard;  humble, 
trembling,  and  hung'r)\ 

His  conscience  cried  out  loudly: 
"Laurence,  why  didst  thou  leave  thy 
home?"  Why?  Because  God  had  be- 
reft him  of  his  senses. 

The  peasant  has  much  endurance  and 
can-ies  his  burden  patientW  enough,  if 
he  sees  a  ray  of  light  at  the  end  of  his 
calvary;  but  Laurence  knew  well  enough 
that  it  would  be  worse  every  day,  and 
tJie  sun  would  rise  every  morning  to 
show  a  still  greater  depth  of  miser\'  for 
himself  and  his  child.  "What  should 
he  do?     A    rope,  a  -prayer,  and  there 


54  For  Daily  Bread. 

would  be  an  end  of  it.  He  was  not 
afraid  to  die — but  what  would  become 
of  the  girl? 

When  he  though  of  all  this,  he  felt 
that  not  only  God  had  forsaken  him, 
but  tliat  he  was  going  mad.  There  was 
no  ray  of  light  in  the  darkness  he  saw 
before  him;  and  the  greatest  pain  which 
continually  gnawed  at  his  heart  he 
could  not  even  define  or  give  a  name 
to:  it  was  homesickness.  The  simple 
peasant  yearned  for  his  pine  woods, 
thatched  cabins,  priests,  and  landlords, 
all  of  which  constituted  his  home  and 
the  familiar  surroundings  of  his  former 
life  from  which  he  had  borne  himself, 
away.  At  times  he  felt  inclined  to  tear 
his  hair;  throw  himself  on  the  floor, 
howl  like  a  chained  dog  or  cry  out — to 
whom?  he  did  not  know.  He  is  sink- 
ing under  his  burden  and  the  town  is 
always  noisy,  always  clamorous;  he  calls 
to  Christ;  and  there  are  no  crosses  on 


At  New  York.  5~> 

the  roads;  nobody  answers  or  hears  him; 
only  the  noise  grows  louder  without  and 
the  girl  crouches  motionless  on  her 
straw.  They  sat  there  from  morning 
until  night  without  exchanging  a  word 
as  if  they  were  angry  with  each  other. 
What  could  they  talk  about?  The  open 
wounds  had  better  be  left  untouched. 

How  was  it  none  of  their  countrymen 
helped  them.  There  are  many  Poles  in 
ISTew  York,  but  few  of  them  who  live 
about  Chatham  Square. 

In  the  second  week  after  their  arrival 
they  met  two  Polish  families,  one  from 
Silesia,  the  other  from  Posen,  but  they 
were  suffering  themselves.  The  Silesi- 
ans  had  lost  two  children,  and  with  the 
last  surviving  one  had  slept  under  the 
arches  of  the  bridges  living  by  what 
they  could  pick  up  until  they  were  talcen 
to  the  hospital.  The  second  family  was 
in  a  more  unhappy  condition  because 
the  father  was  a    drunkard.     Marisha 


56  For  Daily  Bread. 

had  helped  the  woman  as  long  as  she 
could;  now  she  needed  help  herself. 

Thej  might  have  gone  to  the  Polish 
Church  in  Hoboken,  and  the  priest 
would  have  made  their  case  known. 
But  thej  were  ignorant  of  this,  could 
not  ask  their  way,  and  any  money  spent 
meant  a  step  nearer  to  destitution. 

They  sat  these;  he  before  the  stove, 
she  on  the  straw  in  the  room.  Though 
it  was  only  noon,  it  grew  darker,  from 
the  mist  arising  near  the  water.  It  was 
warm  outside  but  they  trembled  with 
cold;  at  last  Laurence  gave  up  all  hope 
of  finding  anything  in  the  ashes. 

"Marisha,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  bear  it 
any  longer.  I  Avill  go  and  see  whether 
I  can  pick  up  any  wood  and  maybe  find 
something  to  eat." 

She  said  nothing  in  reply,  and  he  went 
out.  He  had  acquired  some  practice  by 
this  time  and  knew  how  to  catch  the 
driftwood  which  the  tide  brinirs  near  the 


At  New  York.  57 

docks.  Many  of  those  who  have  no 
money  with  which  to  buy  coal  do  the 
same.  Often  he  got  kicked  and  driven 
away,  but  now  and  then  he  found  pieces 
of  wood  or  something  to  eat,  besides  the 
eagerness  of  his  search  made  him  for- 
get his  hard  fate  and  the  ever  present 
pain  of  homesickness.  When  he  reach- 
ed the  dock  it  was  hmcheon  time,  the 
men  had  gone  away,  and  the  smaller 
boys,  though  they  pelted  him  with  mud 
and  oyster  shells  could  not  drive  him 
away.  Pieces  of  wood  were  rocking  on 
the  water,  one  wave  brought  them  near, 
another  carried  them  back,  but  he  man- 
aged to  secure  a  good  supply  neverthe- 
less. Other  light  objects  were  floating 
in  the  distance  out  of  his  reach.  The 
boys  threw  lines  and  drew  them  on  the 
shore.  He  had  no  line,  sO'  he  waited 
until  the  boys  were  gone,  then  looked 
over  what  they  had  left  and  picked  out 
what    he    could    eat.     It    never    even 


68  For  Daily  Bread. 

crossed  his  mind  that  his  daughter  was 
hungry. 

Fortune  befriended  him  this  time. 
On  his  way  back  he  saw  a  cart  laden 
with  potatoes  stuck  fast  in  the  mud. 
Laurence  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel, 
and  helped  the  driver  toi  get  it  out.  It 
was  heavy  work,  but  he  strained  all  his 
muscles,  the  horses  gave  a  hard  pull  and 
the  cart  got  loose.  As  it  was  heaped 
full  a  great  many  potatoes  rolled  off  in 
the  mud.  The  driver  did  not  stop  to 
pick  them  up,  he  thanked  Laurence  for 
his  help,  shouted  to  the  horses,  and 
drove  on. 

Laurence  knelt  down  and  gathered 
them  with  trembling  hands  and  his  heart 
grew  hopeful  once  more.  Wending  his 
way  homewards,  he  murmured  to  him- 
self: 

"Praised  be  the  Almighty,  he  has  an- 
swered my  prayers.  The  lassie  will 
light  the  fire,  there  is  wood  enough,  and 


At  New  York.  59 

potatoes  to  last  us  two  days.  The  Lord 
is  merciful!  The  room  will  look  more 
cheerful,  and  poor  Marisha  will  be  glad. 
God  is  merciful!" 

Muttering  thus,  he  went  along,  carry- 
ing the  wood  and  feeling  now  and  then 
whether  the  potatoes  were  safe.  He 
had  a  great  treasure,  therefore  he  raised 
his  eyes  in  gratitude  to  heaven,  and 
again  muttered: 

"I  thought  nothing  remained  for  me 
but  to  steal  some  food — and  here  it  fell 
from  the  cart  like  a  gift  from  heaven. 
We  were  without  food,  now  we  have 
plenty.  God  be  praised.  Marisha  will 
jump  up  from  the  straw  when  she  hears 
the  news." 

In  the  meanwhile  Marisha  had  not 
changed  her  position.  At  times  when 
Laurence  brought  wood,  she  had  made 
the  fire,  brought  water,  and  eaten  what 
there  was  and  then  sat  down  again  star- 
ing silently  at  the  blaze.     She,  too,  had 


60  For  Daily  Bread. 

endeavored  to  find  work.  They  had 
taken  her  on  in  on©  of  the  boarding 
houses  toi  sweep  the  rooms  and  wash 
the  dishes;  but  as  they  could  not  make 
her  understand  and  she  often  did  the 
wrong  thing  from  not  understanding 
what  they  wanted,  they  sent  her  away 
after  two  days'  trial.  Now  she  sat  the 
whole  day  in  the  house  afraid  to  go  into 
the  street  because  drunken  sailors  often 
stopped  her  on  the  way.  This  enforced 
idleness  made  her  still  more  unhappy. 
Homesickness  was  eating  into  her  soul 
like  rust  into  iron.  She  was  far  less 
happy  than  Laurence;  for  besides  hun- 
ger and  the  hopelessness  of  their  future, 
the  thoughts  of  her  lost  love  was  always 
with  her.  Jan  had  promised  and  vowed : 
"Where  thou  goest  I  will  go,"  but  she 
had  hoped  to  become  a  lady,  and  now 
everything  was  changed. 

He  was  head  groom  at  the  Manor  and 
owned  his  own  land;  and  she  was  now 


At  New  York.  61 

a  poor,  hungry  outcast.  Would  lie  still 
follow  her,  take  her  into  his  strong  arms 
and  say:  "Poor,  tired  birdie,  coine  to 
me,  or  would  he  cast  her  off  as  a  pauper's 
daughter?"  The  dogs  would  bark  at 
her  in  Lipince,  as  they  do  at  vagrants 
and  beggars;  and  yet  the  wish  of  her 
soul  was  to  be  there  once  more;  to  live 
near  him,  even  if  he  spumed  her. 

When  they  had  a  fire  and  hunger  was 
not  so  near,  she  saw  pictures  of  past 
days  in  the  glowing  embers.  She  saw 
herself,  sitting  at  the  spinning  wheel 
with  other  girls  around  her.  Jan  had 
crept  up  behind  and  whispered  into  her 
ear:  "Marisha  we  will  go  the  priest  to- 
gether, for  thou  art  very  dear  to  me." 
And  she  had  stopped  her  ears  and 
thrown  her  apron  over  her  head  in  con- 
fusion but  listened  to  it  all  the  same  and 
felt  so  lighthearted  and  happy.  Another 
time  he  had  dragged  her  forth  from  the 
corner  where  she  was  hidden  and  asked 


62  For  Daily  Bread. 

her  to  dance  with  him  and  she  had 
turned  her  head  away  and  bade  him  go 
away  she  felt  so  ashamed  and  bashful. 
She  had  seen  it  all  over  and  over  again 
in  the  crackling  flames  through  eyes 
dimmed  with  tears;  now  there  was 
neither  fire  nor  tears,  both  had  burned 
out,  but  though  her  eyes  were  dry  the 
tears  were  burning  deep  down  in  her 
heart.  She  felt  very  tired  and  very 
weak;  but  she  suffered  patiently  and 
humbly,  and  there  was  an  expression  in 
the  large  blue  eyes  like  a  dumb  animal 
that  is  tortured. 

Thus  she  looked  now  sitting  on  the 
straw.  Somebdy  moved  the  latch  of 
the  door;  she  thought  it  was  her  father 
and  did  not  raise  her  head,  then  a  rasp- 
ing voice  called  out: 

"Look  here!" 

It  was  the  owner  of  the  tumble-down 
rookery  they  lived  in;  a  mulatto'  with 
a  dirty,  scowling  face,  and  a  chew  of 
tobacco  in  his  mouth. 


At  l^eyv  York.  63 

"When  tlie  girl  saw  who  it  was  she 
felt  frightened.  They  owed  him  the 
week's  rent  in  advance  and  they  had  not 
a  cent.  She  thought  humble  entreaty 
might  prevail  with  the  man.  She  ap- 
proached him,  and  gently  kissed  his 
hand. 

"I  have  come  for  the  dollar,"  he  said. 

She  understood  the  word  dollar,  and 
shook  her  head,  and  looking  at  him  sup- 
plicatingly,  she  tried  to  make  him  un- 
derstand that  they  had  no  money  left 
and  had  had  no  food  for  nearly  two 
days. 

"The  good  God  will  reward  you,"  she 
said  in  her  own  tongue,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  or  what  to  say. 

The  mulatto  only  understood  that  no 
dollar  was  forthcoming,  and  taking  her 
bundle  with  one  hand  and  the  girl  with 
the  other  he  pushed  her  into  the  street, 
throwing  down  her  things  beside  her; 
then  with  the  same  stolidity,  he  opened 


64  For  Daily  Bread. 

tlie  door  of  the  barroom  close  by,  and 
called  out: 

"Hi,  Paddy!  there  is  a  room  for  you!" 

"All  right,"  responded  a  voice  from 
within,  "I  will  come  to-night." 

Presently  the  mulatto  disappeared 
within  the  dark  entrance  and  Marisha 
remained  standing  alone  in  the  street. 
She  placed  her  bundles  into  a  sheltered 
comer  tO'  keep  them  clean,  and  stood 
close  by  them,  humble  and  patient. 

The  passer&-by  left  her  unmolested. 
It  had  been  dark  in  the  room  but  the 
street  was  still  comparatively  light  and 
in  that  light  the  girl's  face  looked  pale 
and  warm  as  if  she  had  risen  from  a 
sick-bed.  Tlie^  light  flaxen  hair  was  the 
same,  but  the  lips  were  pale;  the  eyes 
sunken  in  and  encircled  with  bluish 
rings;  the  cheekbones  very  prominent. 
She  looked  like  a  faded  blossom,  or  a 
girl  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption. 
The  passers-by  looked  compassionate- 


At  IS^ew  York.  65 

ly  at  her.  An  old  negi-ess  asked  her  a 
few  questions,  but  receiving  no  reply, 
went  on  hea*  way  feeling  offended. 

In  the  meantime  Laurence  was  on  his 
way  back,  full  of  that  kindly  feeling 
which  in  very  poor  people  is  roused  by 
a  manifest  sign  of  God's  providence. 
He  now  had  potatoes,  he  thought,  and 
they  would  eat.  The  next  day  he  would 
go  out  again  to  look  after  wagons;  and 
after  that,  well,  he  did  not  think  fur- 
ther ahead — he  was  too  hungiy.  When 
he  saw  the  girl  standing  on  the  pave- 
ment he  wondered  and  quickened  his 
steps. 

"Why  art  thou  standing  in  the 
street?" 

"The  landlord  has  turned  us  out, 
Dad." 

"Turned  us  out?" 

He  stared  at  her  in  a  helpless  way; 
the  wood  fell  from  his  hands.  This  was 
too  much  for  him.  To  turn  them  out 
5 


66  For  Daily  Bread. 

when  he  had  found  wood  and  potatoes. 
He  dashed  his  cap  on  the'  pavement, 
turned  round  and  round,  stared  wildly 
at  the  girl,  and  repeated: 

''Turned  us  out  into  the  street?" 

Then  he  seemed  to  be  going  some- 
where but  turned  back  and  asked  in  a 
hoarse  voice: 

"Why  didst  not  ask  him  to  be  patient, 
stupid  girl?" 

"I  did  ask  him,"  whispered  Marisha. 

"Didst  embrace  his  knees  and  kiss  his 
hand?" 

"I  did.  Daddy." 

Laurence  again  turned  round  and 
round  like  a  trodden  worm;  everything 
seemed  to  grow  dark  before  his  eyes. 

"A  curse  upon  thee,  for  a  stupid 
wench." 

The  girl  looked  mournfully  at  him. 

"It  was  not  my  fault,  Daddy." 

"Stop  here  and  do  not  budge,  I  will 
go  and  ask  him  to  let  us,  at  least,  roast 
our  potatoes." 


At  New  York.  67 

He  went  inside.  In  a  few  moments 
voices  were  lieard,  a  stamping  of  feet, 
and  Laurence  came  flying  out  into  the 
street  pushed  eAadently  hy  a  powerful 
hand. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  still,  then 
turning  to  his  daughter,  he  said  ab- 
ruptly: ''Let  us  go." 

She  stooped  to  pick  up  the  bundles, 
which  were  very  heavy,  but  Laurence 
did  not  offer  any  help  or  take  any  no- 
tice that  the  girl  was  too  weak  to  carry 
them. 

They  started  off.  Two  such  misera- 
ble being-s  as  the  old  man  and  his  daugh- 
ter would  have  attracted  the  attention 
of  any  passer-by  were  they  not  so  ac- 
costumed  to  such  sights  of  destitution. 

The  girl's  breathing  became  more  and 
more  difficult,  she  tottered  on  her  feet 
once,  then  twice,  and  at  last,  said  en- 
treateningly : 

''Daddy!  take  the  bundles,  I  cannot 
carry  them  any  longer." 


68  For  Daily  Bread. 

"Throw  them  away,  then." 
"But  the  things  will  be  needed." 
"They  will  not  be  needed." 
Suddenly,  seeing  that  she  hesitated, 
he  exclaimed  fiercely: 

"Throw  them  down,  or  I  will  beat 
thee." 

This  time,  the  girl  frighte^ned  by  her 
father's  voice  and  fierce  eyes,  obeyed, 
and  he  went  on  muttering  to  himself: 

"It  is  fate,  and  there  is  nothing  else 
left." 

Then  he  became  silent,  but  his  eyes 
gleamed  savagely.  They  crossed  the 
little  streets,  one  dirtier  than  the  other, 
until  they  arrived  near  the  dock,  pass- 
ing a  building  with  the  inscription: 
"Sailors'  Asylum."  Marisha  sat  down 
on  a  pile  of  lumber;  because  her  feet 
would  carry  her  no  longer  and  Lau- 
rence sat  beside  her.  The  dock  was 
teeming  with  life  and  bustle.  The 
mist  had  cleared  up  and  the  wann  sun- 


At  New  York.  69 

shine  fell  upon  the  two  outcasts.  From 
the  water  came  a  crisp  breeze;  there  was 
light  and  color  and  ever  varying  motion 
among  the  big  ships  which  with  their 
canvass  flnttering  in  the  wind  sailed  into 
the  harbor.  Other  steamers  churning 
the  water  were  leaving  it. 

They  were  going  home,  towards  Li- 
pince,  thought  Marisha,  mournfully, 
where  they  had  left  their  happiness  and 
peace.  How  was  it  the  Lord  had  for- 
saken them,  what  had  they  done  to  de- 
serve such  punishment?  It  was  in  His 
power  to  bring  them  back;  so  many 
ships  were  going  out,  and  they  were 
left  behind  among  strangers. 

The  tired  girl's  thoughts  were  con- 
tinually hovering  about  the  village. 

"Does  he  still  think  of  me,"  she  whis- 
pered to  herself,  "does  he  remember." 

She  remembers,  because  only  happi- 
ness makes  us  forget,  but  solitude  and 
sorrow  nukes  us  cling  round  the  dear 


70  For  Daily  Bread. 

ones  like  the  tendrils  of  the  ivy  round 
the  oak.  Maybe  he  had  forgotten  the 
old  love  and  taken  up  with  a  new  one? 
Was  it  possible  he  could  still  think  of 
a  poor  lass  who  would  bring  him  noth- 
ing but  her  garland  of  rue,  who  had  no 
possessions,  and  whom  only  death  alone 
would  WOO'  now. 

As  she  was  ill,  hunger  did  not  trou- 
ble her,  but  she  felt  very  tired  and 
sleepy;  she  snut  her  eyes  and  the  pale 
face  sank  lower  on  her  breast.  She 
dreamed  she  was  wandering  over  preci- 
pices and  deep  ravines  like  Kasia  in  the 
ballad,  who  fell  into  the  Dunajelz  river; 
she  distinctly  heard  the  lines  of  the 
song: 

"  Jan  saw  her  peril  from  the  cliff  above 
And  threw  a  silken  cord  towards  his  love. 
The  cord  did  not  reach — too  short  by  a  bit 
And  Kasia  tied  her  long  tresses  to  it." 

Here  she  started;  it  seemed  to  her  she 
had  no  tresses  and  was  falling  into  space. 


At  New  York.  71 

The  dream  vanished.  It  was  not  Jan 
who  sat  beside  her,  but  Laurence,  her 
father.  There  was  nO'  river,  only  the 
dock  with  its  forest  of  masts,  and  fun- 
nels. Some  ships  were  leaving  the  pier, 
and  thence  came  the  singing  which  had 
mingled  with  her  dream.  A  quiet, 
balmy,  spring  evening  spread  a  ruddy 
glow  on  sky  and  water.  The  river  was 
without  a  ripple  and  e'vevj  ship  and 
every  pile  stood  clearly  reflected  in  the 
water.  There  seemed  to  be  peace  and 
happiness  spread  everywhere^ — but  be- 
yond the  reach  of  those  two  waifs;  the 
workmen  were  beginning  to  return  to- 
wards their  homes,  these  two  only  had 
nowhere  to  go. 

Hunger  with  its  iron  claws  began  to 
gnaw  at  Laurence's  vitals.  The  peasant 
sat  there  in  gloomy  silence,  a  fierce  re- 
solve depicted  on  his  face.  If  anybody 
had  looked  at  him,  he  would  have  been 
frightened   at   that   despairingly   quiet 


72  For  Daily  Bread. 

face  with  the  expression  of  a  rapacious 
animal.  He  had  not  opened  his  lips  to 
the  girl  since  he  bade  her  throw  down 
the  bundles;  now  he  said  in  a  strange 
voice: 

"Come,  Marisha." 

"Where  are  we  going?" 

"To  the  end  of  the  pier,  near  the 
water.  We  will  lie  down  on  the  boards 
and  sleep." 

Thej  crossed  the  long,  winding  pier 
until  they  reached  the  covered  platform 
where  during  the  day  the  workmen  had 
been  busy,  but  there  was  nobody  there 
now. 

When  they  reached  the  furthest  end 
Laurence  said: 

"We  will  lie  down  here." 

Marisha  sunk  down  at  once,  and  in 
spite  of  the  swarming  mosquitoes,  fell 
into  a  heavy  sleep. 

Suddenly  in  the  depth  of  night  the 
voice  of  Laurence  awakened  her. 


At  :N'ew  York.  73 

"Marisha,  get  up!" 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of 
his  voice  which  roused  her  instantly. 

"What  is  it,  Daddy?" 

In  the  midst  of  the  stilhiess  the  old 
man's  voice  sounded  hollow  and  ten-i- 
bly  quiet. 

"Child!  never  more  shalt  thou  suffer 
from  hunger.  Thou  shalt  not  beg  thy 
bread  at  the  stranger's  door  nor  sleep 
under  the  open  sky.  People  have  aban- 
doned us.  God  has  forsaken  us.  There 
is  nothing  for  us  but  death.  The  water 
is  deep  and  thou  wilt  not  suffer  much." 

She  could  not  see  his  face  in  the  dark- 
ness, but  her  eyes  dilated  with  terror. 

"I  will  drown  thee,  poor  lassie,  and 
then  drown  myself,"  he  continued  in 
that  same  dull,  even  voice.  "There  is 
neither  help  nor  mercy  for  us.  To- 
morrow thou  wilt  not  be  hungry;  to- 
morrow thou  wilt  be  happier  than  to- 
day." 


74  For  Daily  Bread. 

"Oh,  no."  she  did  not  wish  to  die; 
she  was  only  eighteen  and  clung  to  life 
and  was  afraid  of  death.  Her  very  soul 
recoiled  from  the  thought  that  her  body 
should  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea 
among  fishes  and  reptiles.  A  great  ter- 
ror and  aversion  shook  her  whole  frame, 
and  her  own  father  speaking  thus  in  the 
darkness,  seemed  an  evil  spirit. 

Both  his  hands  were  resting  on  her 
thin  shoulders,  and  still  in  that  same 
unnaturally  quiet  voice,  he  went  on: 

"If  thou  shoutest  nobody  will  hear  it; 
I  have  only  to  push  thee,  and  it  is  all 
over." 

"I  will  not  die,  Daddy,  I  will  not," 
cried  out  Marisha.  "Have  you  no  fear 
of  God?  Daddy,  my  own  Daddy,  have 
mercy  on  me!  Did  I  ever  complain  of 
anything,  did  I  not  patiently  suffer  cold 
and  hunger  with  you?" 

His  breath  came  quicker  and  quicker 
and  his  hands  held  her  as  in  a  vice;  she 
still  prayed  to  him  despairingly. 


At  New  York.  75 

"Have  mercy,  I  am  your  child.  Poor 
and  weak,  and  not  long  to  live;  but  I 
will  not  die,  I  am  afraid." 

She  clutched  his  garments  and  kissed 
the  hands  that  tried  to  push  her  into 
the  dark  space.  But  all  this  seemed  to 
excite  the  old  man  still  more.  His  un- 
natural quietness  gave  way  to  frenzy 
and  he  began  to  snort  and  pant  like  a 
wild  beast. 

The  night  was  dark  and  still,  nobody 
could  hear  them  because  they  were  at 
that  part  of  the  pier  where  even  in  the , 
daytime    none    except    workmen    ever 
come. 

''Help!  help!"  screamed  Marisha. 

He  dragged  her  violently  with  one 
hand  to  the  brink,  while  beating  her  on 
the  head  with  the  other  to  smother  her 
cries. 

But  the  cries  did  not  rouse  any  echo; 
a  dog  only  barked  in  the  distance.  The 
girl  was  growing  faint;  the  piece  of  gar- 


76  For  Daily  Bread. 

ment  bhe  clutclaed  unconsciously  remain- 
ed in  her  hand  and  Marisha  was  sensible 
she  was  falling. 

In  her  fall  she  grasped  at  a  beam  and 
remained  hanging  over  the  water. 

The  peasant  leaned  over,  and  horrible 
tO'  say,  tried  to  unloosen  her  hands. 

At  this  moment  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning she  saw  before  her  the  short  Past: 
Lipince,  the  well  with  the  long  crane, 
then  the  voyage,  the  terrible  storm, 
when  they  said  the  litany  together,  and 
their  miserable  life  at  New  York.  But 
what  is  this  she  sees:  A  great  ship  is 
coming  towards  her,  nearer  and  nearer, 
there  is  a  great  crowd  of  people  and 
among  them  stands  Jan  with  out- 
stretched arms  and  above  the  ship  the 
Holy  Virgin,  smiling  at  her  in  heavenly 
glory.  Oh,  Holy  Mother!  Jan,  my 
Jan  I  Daddy!"  she  cries  out,  'there  is 
the  Mother  of  God!  The  Holy  Virgin!" 

A  moment  more  and  the  same  hands 


At  I^ew  York.  77 

that  pushed  her  ruthlessly  over  the  brink 
grasp  her  arms  and  with  superhuman 
strength  drag  her  upon  the  pier.  Again 
she  feels  the  boards  under  her  feet,  two 
anns  infold  her,  they  are  not  those  of 
the  excutioner,  but  of  the  loving  father, 
and  her  head  sinks  on  his  breast. 

When  she  recovered  from  her  swoon 
she  saw  herself  lying  quietly  near  her 
father;  though  it  was  dark,  she  could 
see  he  was  lying  on  his  face,  both  arms 
spread  out  in  the  form  of  a.  cross,  and 
his  whole  frame  shaking  with  convul- 
sive sobs:  "Marisha,"  he  said  in  broken 
tones.  "Marisha,  my  child,  forgive." 

The  girl  searched  in  the  dark  for  his 
hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

"Daddy,  may  the  Lord  Jesus  forgive 
you,  as  I  do." 

From  a  silvery  cloud  which  shone  on 
the  horizon  came  out  the  bright  moon, 
^nd  oh,  wonder!  Marisha  saw  crowds  of 
silveivwinged  angels,  gliding  along  the 


78  For  Daily  Bread. 

moonbeams  towards  her;  they  fanned 
her  face,  singing  in  sweet,  childish 
voices : 

"  Peace  be  with  thee,  poor  tired,  child  1 
Storm-tossed,  battered  birdie,  peace 
be  with  thee !  little  field-flower,  so 
patient  and  quiet,  rest  in  peace  I" 

Singing  thus  they  scattered  lilies  and 
rose  leaves  over  her  and  little  silver  bells 
chimed  in: 

"  Kest,  poor  girl !  sleep — sleep  in  peace." 

And  she  felt  well,  bright  and  peace- 
ful and  fell  off  to  sleep. 

The  night  faded  and  early  dawn  whit- 
ened the  water.  Masts  and  funnels 
seemed  to  emerge  from  the  shadow  and 
come  nearer.  Laurence  knelt  down 
bending  over  his  daughter. 

He  thought  she  was  dead.  Her 
slender  form  was  motionless;  her  face 
was  very  pale,  and  the  closed  eyes  were 
surrounded  by  a  bluish  tint.     He  shook 


At  New  York.  79 

her  arm  but  she  neither  moved  nor 
opened  her  eyes.  Laurence  felt  as  if 
he,  too,  were  dying;  but  putting  his 
hand  close  to  her  mouth  he  felt  the 
faintest  flutter  of  a  breath.  Her  heart 
was  beating  though  very  feebly,  and  he 
thought  it  might  stop  any  moment.  If 
there  came  a  warm  sun  from  out  of  the 
morning  mist  she  may  wake  up,  he 
thought. 

The  seagulls  circled  overhead  as  if 
they  too  were  taking  an  interest  in  this 
himian  tragedy.  The  mist  gradually 
dissolved  under  the  breath  of  a  westerly 
wind  which  brought  with  it  warmth  and 
sweetness. 

Then  rose  the  sun.  The  rays  fell  first 
on  the  top  of  the  scaffolding  at  the  end 
of  the  pier,  then  going  lower  touched 
Marisha's  lifeless  face.  With  the  light 
around  her  the  sweet  patient  face  sur- 
rounded by  the  flaxen  hair  which  had 
become  unloosened  in  the  struggle  look- 


80  For  Daily  Bread. 

ed  like  that  of  a  saint  or  an  angel;  for 
Marisha  thought  her  sufferings  and  pa- 
tient endurance  had  almost  reached  the 
martyr's  palm. 

A  rosy,  delightful  day  rose  from  the 
water,  the  sun  gTew  more  powerful  and 
a  gentle  wind  caressed  the  maiden's  face. 
The  seagulls  whirled  and  circled  over- 
head screaming  as  if  they  wanted  to 
awaken  her.  Laurence  took  off  his  long 
coat  and  spread  it  over  his  daughter's 
feet. 

Gradually  the  bluish  tint  vanished 
from  her  face  and  the  anxiously  watch- 
ing father  saw  a  faint  touch  of  color 
mounting  to  the  cheeks,  she  smiled  once, 
and  twice,  at  last  opened  her  eyes. 

Then  the  old  man  knelt  do^vn  on  the 
planks,  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
heavy  tears  ran  down  his  furrowed  face. 

He  felt  now  that  from  henceforth  the 
child  was  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  the 
soul  of  his  soul,  a  thing  holy  and  be- 
loved above  everything:  on  earth. 


At  Xew  York.  81 

Marisha  not  only  woke  np  but  she  felt 
better  and  more  refreshed  than  she  had 
done  for  some  time  past.  The  pure  air 
of  the  harbor  had  filled  her  lungs  poi- 
soned by  the  foul  vapor  of  her  narrow 
lodgings.  She  had  indeed  come  back 
to  life  again,  for  she  sat  up  and  called 
out: 

"Daddy!  I  am  very  hungTy." 

"Come,  little  daughter,"  said  the  old 
man,  "we  will  go  to  the  other  end  of 
the  pier  and  find  something  to  eat." 

She  rose  without  much  effort,  and  fol- 
lowed him.  This  day  was  evidently  to 
be  a  turning  point  in  their  fortunes  for 
scarcely  had  they  gone  a  few  steps  when 
they  saw  lying  between  two  beams  a  red 
handkerchief  tied  up  in  a  bundle,  which 
on  examination  was  found  to  contain 
some  bread  and  meat,  and  a  piece  of 
pudding.  Who  had  put  it  there?  A 
laborer  most  likely  who  had  eaten  only 
a  portion  of  his  lunch  yesterday.  They 
G 


82  For  Daily  Bread. 

often  do.  Lavirence  and  Marisha  ex- 
plained it  in  their  own  simple  way. 
Who  had  put  it  there?  He,  who  re- 
members and  feeds  the  sparrows  on  the 
roof  and  the  flowers  in  the  field. 

God! 

They  said  a  short  prayer  and  ate  what 
they  found;  it  was  not  Yercjf  much  for 
two  hungry  people,  but  they  felt  re- 
freshed and  strengthened,  and  went 
along  the  water  front  towards  the  larger 
docks.  Reaching  the  Emigrant  Office, 
they  turned  into  Water  street.  With  a 
rest  now  and  then  it  took  them  several 
hours  to  accomplish  the  journey.  Why 
they  went  in  this  particular  direction 
they  did  not  know  themselves,  but  Ma- 
risha fancied  going  that  way.  On  their 
way  they  met  a  number  of  carts  and 
wagons  going  towards  the  water  front. 
Water  street  was  full  of  life  and  motion. 
People  were  coming  in  all  directions 
from  their  dwellings,  and  hurrying  to 


At  New  York.  83 

their  offices,  and  places  of  business.  In 
one  of  the  open  doors  stood  a  grey-haired 
gentleman,  with  long  moustaches,  with 
a  young  lad  by  his  side.  He  stepped 
out,  looked  at  the  two  wanderers,  his 
moustaches  twitched,  and  an  expression 
of  deep  astonishment  appeared  on  his 
face;  he  came  a  little  nearer,  looked 
again,  and  then  smiled. 

A  human  being  smiling  at  them  in 
New  York  was  something  so  wonderful, 
nay  miraculous,  that  both  Laurence  and 
his  daughter  were  astonished. 

The  old  gentleman  approached  them, 
and  addressed  them  in  their  own  tongue : 

''Where  do  you  come  from,  good  peo- 
ple?" 

If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  from  the 
pure  sky  they  would  not  have  been  more 
taken  aback.  Laurence  grew  as  wdiite 
as  a  sheet  and  reeled  on  his  feet;  una- 
able  to  believe  his  ears.  Marisha  re- 
covered   first,  and    falling  to    the  old 


84  For  Daily  Bread. 

man's  knees,  which  she  embraced,  ex- 
claimed: 

"We  come  from  Posen,  Gracious 
Pan!" 

"And  what  are  you  doing  here?" 

"Nothing,  gracious  Pan,  but  suffering 
hunger  and  misery."  Her  voice  failed, 
and  Laurence  having  shaken  off  his  be- 
wilderment, fell  at  the  old  gentleman's 
feet,  clutched  at  the  lappels  of  his  coat, 
kissed  them  raptuously  and  thought  he 
clutched  at  a  bit  of  heaven.  • 

It's  our  own  Pan,  our  master,"  he 
gasped  out.  "He  will  not  let  us  die 
of  hunger,  he  will  protect  us  and  save 
us  from  evil." 

The  young  lad  who  was  with  the 
elderly  man  opened  his  eyes  in  undis- 
guised astonishment;  people  began  to 
crowd  around  them  to  see  one  man 
kneeling  before  another,  kissing  his  feet, 
a  thing  unheard  of  in  America.  Tlie 
gentleman  grew  red,  and  evidently  an- 


At  ^^ew  York.  85 

gry,  and    tnreed    sharply  on    the  by- 
standers: 

"What  are  you  staring  at?  It's  none 
of  your  business,"  and  theu  turning  to 
Laurence  and  Marisha,  he  said: 

"We  cannot  stand  here  in  the  street, 
come  with  me.*" 

They  followed  him  to  the  nearest  res- 
taurant, and  there  he  went  with  them 
into  a  private  room.  Here  the  two 
peasants  again  begun  to  embrace  his 
knees  but  he  waived  them  off  and  mut- 
tered in  grumpy  tones: 

"There,  there,  have  done  with  your 
foolishness!  We  come  from  the  same 
country,  and  are  children  of  the  same 
mother." 

The  smoke  of  his  cigar  seemed  to 
have  got  into  his  eyes  because  he  rubbed 
them  vigorously  with  his  fist, then  asked: 

"Are  you  hungry?" 

"We  have  eaten  nothing  for  two  days, 


86  For  Daily  Bread. 

but  what  we    found    to-day    near    the 
water." 

"William,"  said  he  addressing  the  lad, 
"order  some  lunch  to  be  brought  in 
here."     Then  he  asked  again: 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"ISTowhere,  illustrious  Pan." 

"Where  did  you  sleep?" 

"On  the  pier." 

"Did  you  get  turned  out  of  your  lodg- 
ings?" 

"We  did." 

"Have  you  no  things,  nothing  but 
what  you  stand  in?" 

"We  have  not." 

"And  no  money?" 

"Xone." 

"And  what  do  you  intend  doing?'' 

"We  do  not  know." 

The  old  gentleman  put  further  ques- 
tions in  a  sharp,  quick  tone;  then  sud- 
denly turning  towards  Marisha,  he  said 
in  a  gentle  voice: 


At  New  York.  87 

"How  old  i.re  you,  child?" 

"I  shall  be  eighteen  next  Michaelmas, 
please.  Sir." 

"And  you  have  suffered  a  great  deal?" 

Instead  of  answering,  Marisha  bent 
humbly  down  to  his  knees;  upon  which 
the  old  gentleman  took  tO'  rubbing  his 
eyes  again — the  smoke  evidently  an- 
noyed him. 

A  dish  of  hot  meat  and  some  beer 
was  brought  in.  He  told  them  tO'  sit 
down  and  eat,  at  which  they  demurred, 
saying  they  dared  not  do  so  in  his  pres- 
ence. He  became  angiy  again,  and 
called  them  a  couple  of  fools,  but  in 
spite  of  all  his  impatient  manner  he 
seemed  to  them  a  very  angel  from 
heaven. 

His  face  beamed  with  satisfaction 
when  he  saw  them  making  a  hearty 
meal.  After  they  had  finished  he  asked 
them  to  tell  him  how  they  had  come 
here  and  all  that  had  happened  to  them. 


88  For  Dailj  Bread. 

Laurence  told  him  everytliing  as  if  he 
had  been  in  the  confessional,  he  had 
tried  to  drown  his  child;  the  old  gen- 
tleman jumped  up  in  a  terrible  rage, 
and  fairly  shouted: 

"I  could  flay  you  alive  for  that." 
Then  turning  to  Marisha,  he  said: 
"Come  here,  child." 
When  she  approached    he    took  her 
head  in  both  his  hands  and  kissed  her 
on  the  forehead. 

After  a  short  and  thoughtful  pause 
he  said: 

"You  have  undergone  great  suffering 
and  privation.  Nevertheless  it  is  a  good 
country  for  those  who  know  how  to  shift 
for  themselves." 

Laurence  opened  his  eyes  in  silent 
amazement:  this  good  and  wise  gentle- 
man called  America  a  good  countr\^ 

"Yes,  you  blockhead,"  he  said,  seeing 
Laurence's  astonishment,  "it  is  a  crood 
country.     I  came  here  with  empty  pock- 


At  New  York.  89 

ets  and  have  now  a  good  income.  But 
yon  peasants  have  no  business  to  come 
out  here,  you  ought  to  stick  to  your  land, 
if  you  leava  the  country  who  is  to  re- 
main there.  You  cannot  do  much  here. 
It  is  easy  enough  to  come  but  very  diffi- 
cult to  get  home  again." 

He  remained  silent  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  said,  as  if  tO'  himself:  "It's 
forty  years  since  I  came  here,  time  al- 
most to  have  forgotten  the  old  home; 
but  the  longing  for  it  comes  back  now 
and  then.  William  must  go  there 
and  get  acquainted  with  his  father's 
country." 

"This  is  my  son,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  the  lad. 

"William  you  will  bring  me  from 
thence  a  handful  of  soil  to  put  under  my 
head  in  the  coffin." 

"Yes,  father,"  replied  the  lad,  in  Eng- 
lish. 

"And  upon  the  breast,  William,  upon 
the  breast." 


90  For  Daily  Bread. 

"Yes,  father." 

The  smoke  of  the  cigar  seemed  to 
have  got  into  his  eyes  again,  so  that  they 
were  suffused  with  tears.  He  shook 
himself  and  said  gruffly: 

"The  rascal  understands  Polish  well 
enough,  but  prefers  to  speak  English. 
Such  is  fate.  Where  the  sapling  is 
transplanted  there  it  grows.  "William, 
go  and  tell  your  sister  that  we  have 
guests  for  dinner  and  for  the  night." 

The  lad  jumped  up  quickly,  and  went 
out  to  do  his  bidding. 

The  old  gentleman  sat  silent  e^ddently 
lost  in  meditation,  then  spoke  as  if  to 
himself: 

"If  I  were  to  send  them  home  it  would 
cost  a  great  deal,  and  they  have  nothing 
to  go  back  to.  Sold  their  property  and 
all  their  sticks,  nothing  but  a  beggar's 
life  to  await  them  there.  To  send  the 
girl  into  service,  the  Lord  knows  what 
might  become  of  her.     Since  they  are 


At  New  York.  91 

here  they  might  as  well  try  to  work. 
I  will  send  them  to  a  settlement,  the 
girl  will  get  married  at  once.  They  will 
earn  some  money,  and  can  go  back  if 
they  wish  to,  and  take  the  old  man  with 
them." 

Then  he  turned  to  Laurence: 

"Did  you  hear  about  our  settlements 
here?" 

"No,  gracious  Pan,  I  have  heard  noth- 
ing." 

"Oh,  people,  how  can  you  come  here 
not  knowing  where  to  turn;  no  wonder 
you  cam©  near  perishing  miserably.  In 
Chicago  there  are  twenty  thousand  like 
you;  in  Milwaukee  as  many;  in  Detroit 
and  Buffalo  a  great  number.  They  work 
mostly  in  factories,  but  the  peasant  loves 
the  soil  best.  I  might  send  you  to  Ra- 
dom,  in  Illinois,  h'm!  but  land  is  more 
difficult  to  obtain  there.  They  are  build- 
ing a  new  Posen  in  the  prairies  at  Ne- 
braska, but  that  is  too  far,  and  the  rail- 


92  For  Daily  Bread. 

road  fare  is  too  much.  St.  Mary's  in 
Texas  is  also  too  far.  Barovina  would 
be  the  best,  especially,  as  I  can  get  you 
free  passes,  and  what  money  I  give  you, 
you  can  keep  for  other  purposes. 

He  thought  again,  deeply. 

"Listen  to  me,  old  man,"  he  said  sud- 
denly. "They  are  opening  a  new  settle- 
ment called  Borovina,  in  Arkansas.  It 
is  a  beautiful  country,  good  climate  and 
you  can  obtain  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres,  or  more,  of  good  woodland  by 
making  a.  small  payment  tO'  the  railway 
company.  Do  you  understand^  I  will 
give  you  some  money  to  start  with,  be- 
sides the  railway  tickets ;  these  will  take 
you  to  Little  Rock,  and  from  there  you 
go  by  wagon.  You  will  find  many 
others  therei  bound  for  the  settlement. 
I  shall  provide  you  with  letters  of  in- 
troduction. I  will  do  for  you  what  I 
can,  because  we  are  children  of  the  same 
mother,  but  I  am  more  sorry  for  your 


At  New  York.  93 

daiigliter  than  for  you.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" Then  his  voice  grew  soft  and 
tender. 

"Now  listen,  child,"  he  said  to  Ma- 
risha,"  take  my  card,  and  do  not  lose 
it.  If  ever  you  are  in  need  of  a  friend, 
come  straight  to  me  and  I  will  protect 
you.  If  I  should  not  be  alive,  William 
will  help  you.  Do  not  lose  the  address, 
and  now,  come  with  me." 

On  the  way  he  bought  for  them  a 
change  of  clothes  and  some  linen,  and 
then  took  them  to  his  house.  They 
were  all  good  people  there.  William 
and  his  sister  Jenny  made  them  as  wel- 
come as  if  they  had  been  relatives. 
William  treated  Marisha  as  if  she  were 
a  lady,  to  the  great  confusion  of  the 
simple  girl.  In  the  evening  some  young 
girls,  prettily  dressed,  with  fringes  on 
their  foreheads  came  to  see  Jenny.  They 
took  Marisha  among  them,  wondered  at 
h.er  pale  face  and  beautiful  flaxen  hair 


94  For  Daily  Bread. 

and  laughed  at  lier  timid  ways  and  her 
wanting  to  kiss  their  hands.  The  mas- 
ter of  the  house  walked  to  and  fro  among 
them,  shook  his  white  head.  Sometimes 
muttering  to  himself,  addressing  the 
company  either  in  Polish  or  English ;  he 
talked  about  the  far  off  country  to  Ma- 
risha  and  Laurence,  dwelt  upon  stories 
of  the  past,  and  the  smoke  of  his  cigar 
seemed  to  trouble  his  eyes  for  he  wiped 
them  frequently. 

When  they  retired  for  the  night,  Ma- 
risha  was  deeply  moved,  seeing  that 
Jenny  with  her  own  hands  prepared  the 
bed  she,  Marisha  was  to  sleep  upon.  Oh, 
how  good  they  were!  But  it  was  not 
astonishing  after  all,  did  not  the  gen- 
tleman come  from  the  same  part  of  the 
country  ? 

The  third  day  Laurence  and  his 
daughter  were  on  their  way  to  Little 
Rock.  The  peasant  felt  his  one  hun- 
dred dollars  in  his  pocket,  and  his  past 


At  New  York.  95 

sufferings  seemed  to  liim  a  dream;  and 
this  was  real  life  at  last.     Marisha  pon- 
dered over  tlie  wonderful  ways  of  Provi- 
dence and  tliought  that  He  who  had 
saved  them  from  such  misery  would  fur- 
ther protect  them,  bring  Jan  out  to  her, 
and  allow  them  to  go  back  to  Lipince. 
Towns  and  farms  seemed  to  fly  past 
.them.     How  different  it  was  from  New 
York.     There  were  fields  and  woods  as 
far  as  the  eye    could    see,  houses  sur- 
rounded by  trees,  large  tracts  of  waving 
cornfields,  just  as  it  was  at  home.     At 
the  sight  of  this  Laurence's  chest  ex- 
panded and  he  felt  inclined    to  shout 
and  sing    for    joy.     On  the    meadows 
herds  of  cattle  and  sheep  were  grazing; 
on  the  verge  of  the  wood,  men  were 
busy  plying  their  axes.     The  train  went 
further  and  further,  and    the    country 
gradually    became    less    settled.     The 
famis  disappeared  and  the  large,  soli- 
tary prairie  met  their  eyes.     The  w^ind 


96  For  Daily  Bread. 

moved  the  tall  grasses  and  wild  flowers. 
Here  and  there  like  a  golden  ribbon 
twisted  in  and  out,  appeared  an  aban- 
doned car  track  now  covered  with  yel- 
low flowers.  The  feathery  heads  of 
grasses,  mullein,  and  thistles  seemed  to 
nod  in  welcome  to  the  wanderers. 
Hawks  hung  motionless  in  mid  air  look- 
ing down  on  the  prairie.  The  train 
rushed  on  as  if  it  wanted  to  follow  the 
prairie  where  it  lost  itself  in  the  distant 
horizon. 

From  the  windows  flocks  of  hares  and 
prairie  dogs  could  be  seen;  sometimes 
the  antlered  head  of  a  deer  was  seen 
above  the  grasses.  Nowhere,  either 
towns,  churches,  farms,  or  houses;  only 
stations  between  the  stations,  not  a  liv- 
ing soul.  Laurence  looked  and  looked 
and  could  not  understand  how  it  was  so 
much  good  soil  remained  uncultivated. 

A  day  and  a  night  passedTin  that  way. 
In  the  morning  they  found  themselvea 


At  New  York.  97 

in  the  woods.  The  thick  trees  with 
vines  and  creepers  twisted  across  their 
branches,  made  a  green,  almost  impene- 
trable wall  on  either  side.  Strange 
birds  were  now  and  then  flitting  in  and 
out  the  luxuriant  vegetation.  Laurence 
and  Marisha.  fancied  they  saw  among 
the  thicket  strange  riders  with  feathered 
headgear  and  faces  like  burnished  cop- 
per. Seeing  these  vast  prairies  and  in 
penetrable  Avoods  in  succession  passing 
before  their  eyes,  Laurence  would  now 
and  then  ejaculate: 

"Marisha!" 

"Yes,  Daddy." 

"Isn't  it  all  wonderful?" 

They  at  last  crossed  a  river  which 
seemed  to  them  immense.  Later  on 
they  were  told  it  was  the  Mississippi; 
and  late  at  night  they  arrived  at  Little 
Rock. 

Here  they  were  to  ask  their  way  to 
Borovina. 
7 


98  For  Daily  Bread. 

We  will  leave  them  here.  The  sec- 
ond part  of  their  wanderings  is  finished. 
The  third  will  take  place  amid  the  noise 
of  the  axe,  and  the  heavy  work  of  the 
settlement.  Whether  there  is  to  be  less 
suffering,  fewer  tears,  and  less  ill-fate, 
time  will  show. 


15!. 
THE  NEW  SETTLEMENT. 

Wtat  was  Borovina.  A  settlement 
in  embryo.  The  name  had  been  fixed 
npon,  that  was  the  main  thing;  as  a 
name  implies  an  existing  fact  and  in- 
spires confidence.  Polish  and  American 
ncAvspapers  published  in  ISTew  York, 
Chicago,  Buffalo,  Detroit,  Denver,  and 
Milwaukee,  in  fact  wherever  the  Polish 
tongue  was  heard,  proclaimed  urhi  et 
orhi  generally,  and  especially  to  the 
Polish  settlers,  that  if  they  wished  to 
enjoy  good  health,  to  become  rich,  and 
live  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  and,  maybe 
afterwards,  save  their  souls,  they  should 
buy  farms  in  that  earthly  paradise,  Bo- 
rovina. These  announcements  further 
stated  that    Arkansas,  where  the    new 

settlement  was  to  start  into  life,  was  as 
99 


100  For  Daily  Bread. 

jet  sparsely  settled,  althoiigli  the  cli- 
mate was  most  salubrious.  It  was  true 
that  the  City  of  Memphis,  situated  on 
the  opposite  shore  of  the  Mississippi,  was 
a  very  hotbed  of  yellow  fever;  but  it 
was  a  well-known  fact  that  fever  could 
not  cross  a  broad  river  like  the  Missis- 
sippi ;  besides  the  Choctaws  would  make 
short  work  of  it,  as  the  fever  trembles 
at  the  sight  of  a  redskin.  In  conse- 
quence of  these  combinations  the  set- 
tlers of  Borovina  would  have  the  fever 
district  on  the  East,  redskins  on  the 
West,  they  themselves  living  in  a  per- 
fectly neutral  zone. 

In  a  few  hundred  years  Borovina 
would  boast  of  a  vast  population  and  the 
ground  which  now  sold  for  a  dollar  and 
a  half  an  acre  would  fetch  a  thousand 
dollars  a  square  yard  for  building  pur- 
poses. 

To  those  who  were  alarmed  at  the 
proximity  of  Choctaws  the    announce- 


The  New  Settlement.  101 

ment  stated  that  these  noble  savages 
were  full  of  friendly  feeling  towards 
their  white  neighbors,  especially  if  they 
were  Poles  and  that  their  mutual  rela- 
tions would  be  of  the  friendliest;  besides 
railways,  and  telegraph  poles  were  sure 
to  frighten  them  away,  and  their  disap- 
pearance would  be  only  a  question  of 
time. 

The  ground  had  been  acquired  by  a 
railway  company  which  would  assure 
the  settlers  with  an  outlet  for  their  pro- 
duce and  easy  communication  with  the 
world.  The  announcements  neglected 
to  state  the  fact  that  the  line  was  only 
a  projected  one,  and  was  to  be  erected 
at  some  future  time  from  the  sale  of  the 
land  given  by  the  government  to  the 
railway  company.  To  Borovina  it  made 
this  little  difference,  that  instead  of  be- 
ing on  a  direct  line  it  was  situated  in 
a  howling  wilderness  that  could  only  be 
reached  by  wagons,  and  with  great  diffi- 
culty. 


102  For  Daily  Bread. 

This  was  a  temporary  inconvenience, 
a  little  disappointing  for  the  settlers  it 
is  true,  but  one  which  would  disappear 
in  time  as  soon  as  the  line  was  opened. 
Besides  advertisements  are  not  to  be 
taken  for  gos2>el  truth,  and  as  plants 
transplanted  to  America  soil  grow  into 
luxuriant  leafage  at  the  expense  of  its 
fruit,  so  also  American  advertisements 
spring  up  full  blown  and  it  is  difficult 
to  pick  out  the  grain  of  truth  from  the 
rhetorical  chaff.  Putting  aside  how- 
ever the  humbug  and  puffing  up  of  the 
settlement  one  might  think  it  would  be 
no  worse  than  thousands  of  others  whose 
beginning  was  the  same  and  which  had 
been  praised  with  no  less  exaggeration. 

The  conditions  from  many  points  of 
view  seemed  favorable,  therefore  a  great 
many  people,  spread  over  the  States, 
from  the  great  lakes  to  Florida,  and 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  shores  of  Cali- 
fornia, applied  for  farms.     Poles  from 


The  New  Se^lement.         103 

Prussia,  Poles  from  Galicia,  Masurs 
from  the  plains  of  Warsaw,  all  those 
that  worked  in  the  factories  of  Chicago 
and  Milwaukee  and  had  sighed  in  vain 
for  the  life  which  is  the  peasant's  in- 
heritance snatched  eagerly  at  the  oppor- 
tunity to  get  back  from  smoke  begrimed 
cities  tO'  the  plough.  Those  who  felt  too 
hot  at  St.  Mary's  in  Texas,  too  cold  in 
Minnesota,  too  damp  in  Detroit  or  hun- 
gry at  Radom,  in  Illinois  were  eager 
for  a  change  and  a  few  hundred  people 
with  a  fair  sprinkling  of  women  and 
children  started  for  Arkansas.  They 
were  not  deterred  by  the  tales  of  the 
lawlessness  of  the  countiy  infested  with 
Indians,  outlaws  hiding  from  justice, 
rough  squatters  who  despite  the  govern- 
ment's prohibition  were  cutting  down 
timber  along  the  Red  River,  and  the 
terrible  fights  that  were  going  on  be^ 
tween  the  white  and  Indian  buffalo 
huntere.     The    Masiir,  if    he    has  his 


104  For  Daily  Bread. 

knotty  stick  and  feels  another  brother 
Masur  at  his  back,  is  not  afraid  of  any- 
thing. They  are  clannish  these  Masurs 
from  the  Warsaw  plains;  like  to  be 
within  reach  of  each  other;  and  work 
or  fight  together  shoulder  to  shoulder. 

The  gathering  point  for  Borovina  was 
the  town  of  Little  Rock.  From  Little 
Rock  to  Clarksville,  the  nearest  settle- 
ment to  Borovina,  is  a  great  distance; 
and  their  way  lay  through  a  wild  and 
desolate  country,  heavy  woods,  and 
swollen  rivers.  The  few  who  had 
started  out  alone  were  never  heard  of 
again,  but  the  main  body  arrived  with- 
out mishap  and  were  now  camping  out 
in  the  woods. 

To  say  the  truth  they  had  been  very 
much  disappointed  when  they  arrived 
on  the  spot.  Expecting  arable  land  and 
woods  they  had  found  nothing  but  a 
thick  almost  impenetrable  forest  which 
had  to  be  cleared    before  the    plough 


The  New  Settlement.  105 

could  be  used.  Black  oaks,  redwood, 
Cottonwood,  and  gloomy  hickory  trees, 
with  vines  and  creepers  as  thick  as  cables 
twisting  in  and  out,  and  chapparal  un- 
derneath formed  a  solid  green  wall. 
Those  who  penetrated  further  did  not 
see  the  sky  above.  They  had  to  feel 
their  way  in  the  surrounding  gloom  and 
were  in  danger  of  losing  their  way  and 
perishing  in  the  wilderness. 

One  and  another  of  the  Masur  lads 
looked  at  their  fists,  then  at  the  huge 
trees,;  several  yards  in  circumference, 
and  felt  disheartened.  It  is  well  to 
have  plenty  of  timber  wherewith  to 
build  houses  but  to  clear  hundreds  of 
acres  before  the  plough  could  be  used 
was  a  work  of  years. 

But  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done; 
therefore  on  the  second  day  after  their 
arrival,  some  grasped  the  axe,  crossed 
themselves,  spat  on  their  hands,  and  with 
a  groan  fell  to  work  and  from  that  time 


106  For  Daily  Bread. 

on  the  sound  of  the  axe  often  accom- 
panied by  songs  re-echoed  in  the  woods 
of  Arkansas. 

The  camp  had  been  erected  on  a 
clearing  near  the  river  on  the  brink  of 
which  the  future  settlement  was  to  be 
erected,  with  a  school  and  church  in  the 
middle,  the  houses  and  cabins  around 
them  in  a  large  square.  In  the  mean- 
while there  stood  the  wagons  forming 
a  triangle  to  be  used  as  a  fortress  in  case 
of  attack.  Beyond  the  wagons  grazed 
the  mules,  horses,  cows,  oxen  and  sheep 
under  the'  care  of  young  men  armed 
with  rifles.  The  women  slept  in  the 
wagons  and  the  men  round  the  camp 
fires. 

During  the  day  only  women  and 
children  stayed  in  the  camp,  the  men 
being  busy  in  the  woods.  At  night 
wild  beasts — jaguars,  wolves  and  coy- 
otes came  from  the  thicket.  The  ter- 
rible grizzly  bears  which  are  less  afraid 


The  :N'ew  Cettlement.  107 

of  fire  came  now  and  then  close  to  the 
wagons,  consequently  shots  were  often 
heard  in  the  dead  of  night,  and  shouts: 
"Shoot  straight  at  the  beast."  The  men 
who  came  from  the  wilder  part  of  Texas 
were  mostly  skilled  hunters  and  pro- 
vided themselves  and  their  families  with 
fresh  meat  from  antelopes,  stags,  and 
buffalos,  which  were  abundant  in  the 
spring  when  these  animals  draw  towards 
the  north.  The  other  settlers  lived  on 
provisions  brought  with  them  from  Lit- 
tle Rock:  Indian  meal  and  salt  pork; 
beside  this  they  killed  sheep,  of  which 
nearly  every  family  had  brought  a  num- 
ber. 

In  the  evenings  they  congregated 
round  the  blazing  camp  fire,  and  the 
young  people  would  dance  instead  of 
lying  down  to  sleep.  A  settler  who  had 
brought  his  violin  played  the  national 
dances:  Obertas,  Masur,  and  Krakoviak, 
and  when  the  sound  of  the  violin  lost 


108  For  Daily  Bread. 

itself  among  tlie  rustling  of  the  forest, 
others  helped  it  out  by  jingling  tin 
plat-es.  Time  passed  quickly  enough 
amid  hard  work,  all  the  harder  because 
it  was  done  without  a  system.  The  first 
thing  was  to  build  some  kind  of  shelter, 
and  in  a  short  time  a  few  log  cabins, 
covered  with  bark  were  dotted  about  on 
the  green  sward.  Cottonwood  is  easy 
to  work  but  they  had  to  go  a  long  dis- 
tance for  it.  Others  built  temporary- 
dwellings  from  the  canvass  stripped 
from  their  wagons.  Some  younger  men 
tired  of  felling  trees  began  using  the 
plough  in  places  where  the  trees  had 
been  cleared  and  for  the  first  time  the 
shouts  of  the  ploughmen  were  heard  in 
the  wilds  of  Arkansas. 

Taken  altogether  there  was  such  a 
vast  amount  of  work  to  be  done,  that 
the  settlers  did  not  know  where  to  put 
their  hands  to  first;  whether  to  build 
cabins,  clear  the  forest  or  go  hunting 


The  Xew  Settlement         109 

for  supplies  of  venison.  One  thing  was 
clear  from  the  beginning:  the  settlers' 
agent  had  bought  the  land  from  the 
company  on  faith,  ^vithout  taking  the 
trouble  to  examine  it,  Othenvise  he 
could  as  easily  have  acquired  a  tract  of 
prairie  land  only  partially  wooded.  He 
and  the  railway  agent  had  come  to  the 
spot  in  order  to  survey  the  land  and 
parcel  out  the  different  claims,  but  see- 
ing the  state  of  things  they  remained 
two  days,  quarelled,  and  then  under  pre- 
text of  going  for  the  surveying  tools 
went  back  to  Clarksville  and  never 
showed  themselves  at  the  settlement 
again. 

It  soon  leaked  out  that  some  of  the 
settlers  had  paid  a  great  deal  more  than 
others,  and  what  was  worse  nobody  knew 
where  his  allotment  lay  or  how  to  sun^ey 
it  if  they  could  locate  it.  The  settlers 
had  no  leader  or  manager  or  any  one 
who  was  capable  of  adjusting  their  differ- 
ences. 


110  For  Daily  Bread. 

Germans  no  donbt  would  have  con- 
centrated their  united  strength  in  clear- 
ing the  woodsj  building  cabins,  and  after 
that,  parcel  out  the  claims.  But  each 
Masur  wanted  to  work  at  once  upon  his 
own  property,  build  his  cabin,  and  pre- 
pare his  own  soil.  Every  one  wanted 
land  close  to  the  river  where  the  trees 
were  fewer  and  water  nearest.  Conten- 
tions arose  which  grew  into  quarrels  and 
free  fights  from  the  day  when  a  certain 
Mr.  Griinmanski  made  his  appearance. 
This  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  have 
dropped  from  the  clouds,  came  from 
Cincinnati,  where  the  Germans  settled; 
there  he  was  known  as  plain  Griinman, 
but  he  added  the  "ski"  to  his  honest 
German  name  for  business  purposes. 

His  wagon  had  a  high  canvass  roof 
where  on  either  side  in  big  black  letters 
stood  the  name:  "Saloon,"  and  under- 
neath in  smaller  type:  Brandy,  Whisky, 
Gin.     How  he  had  managed  to    cross 


The  New  Settlement.  Ill 

the  wild,  lawless  region  between  Clarks- 
ville  and  Borovina  witliout  having  been 
attasked  by  thieves  or  scalped  by  In- 
dians (who  in  small  detachments  often 
roam  about  the  very  neighborhood  of 
Clarksville)  was  his  secret;  enough  that 
the  first  day  he  showed  himself  at  the 
settlement  he  did  a  good  business.  On 
that  vevy  same  day  the  settlei^  began 
to  quarrel.  To  their  various  differences 
about  claims,  implements,  or  places  near 
the  fire,  came  other  more  trifling 
grounds  for  disagreeing.  The  men  be- 
came  affected  with  pro^'incial  patriot- 
ism. Those  that  came  from  the  Xorih- 
ern  States,  praised  their  coimtry  at  the 
expense  of  those  from  the  South,  Loud 
and  angiy  voices  in  that  American-Po- 
lish idiom  where  their  own  mother 
tongue  had  adopted  local  expressions, 
were  heard  in  the  camp. 

Quarrels  became  more  virulent.     It 
came  to  fights  where  those  coming  from 


112  For  Daily  Bread. 

the  same  town  or  settlement  stood  by 
each  other  against  those  who  came  from 
other  parts.  It  was  a  bad  lookout  for 
the  little  community  who  verily  were 
like  a  flock  of  sheep  without  a  shep- 
herd. But  gradually,  and  by  degrees, 
the  more  eixperienced  and  wiser  mem- 
bers of  the  party  acquired  a  certain  in- 
fluence and  authority  and  tried  to  main- 
tain order.  In  moments  of  danger  their 
common  instinct  of  preservation  made 
them  forget  private  rancor.  Once  when 
a.  party  of  Indians  had  captured  some 
dozen  of  their  sheep,  the  lads  moved 
by  one  thought  rushed  after  them,  re- 
covered their  property,  and  killed  one 
of  the  Indians.  That  day  the  greatest 
harmony  reigned  in  the  camp,  but  the 
next  day  saw  them  wrangling  again  at 
the  clearings.  There  was  also  peace 
and  harmony  when  the  musician  began 
to  play  their  national  songs,  the  melo- 
dies they  had  heard  under  the  thatched. 


The  New  Settlement.  113 

roofs  at  home.  All  conversation  ceased, 
no  sound  was  heard  but  the  voice  of  the 
violin  which  spoke  to  them  of  the  far 
off  country,  the  soughing  of  the  wind 
in  the  forest  trees,  and  the  crackling  of 
the  camp  fire.  With  earnest,  thought- 
ful faces,  they  stood  around  the  musi- 
cian, listening  still,  though  the  moon 
had  already  risen  high  above  the  trees. 
But  with  the  exception  of  these  peaceful 
intervals  the  common  bonds  of  brother- 
hood were  getting  weaker  every  day. 
This  small  community,  thrown  upon 
their  own  resources  without  a  leader, 
did  not  know  how  to  shift  for  itself. 

Among  the  settlers  we  find  our  for- 
mer friends  Laurence  Toporek  and  his 
daughter  Marisha,  who  shared  the  life 
of  the  settlers.  At  the  beginning  it 
seeme-d  tO'  tliem  a  welcome  change  from 
the  hard  pavements  of  New  York  to  the 
woods  of  Arkansas.  There  they  had 
nothing  they  could  call  their  ov^ti;  here 


114  For  Daily  Bread. 

they  had  their  own  wagon,  some  im- 
plements and  live  stock  bought  at 
Clarksville.  Homesickness  tormented 
them  less  among  their  own  people,  and 
the  heavy  work  did  not  permit  them  to 
think  much  beyond  of  the  day.  The 
old  man  was  cutting  trees  from  mom- 
ing  till  night,  and  preparing  timber  for 
his  cabin.  Marisha  was  busy  washing 
clothes,  lighting  fires,  and  preparing 
their  meals.  The  exercise  and  open 
air  life  had  effaced  all  traces  of  her  ill- 
ness, and  her  formerly  pale  face  ex- 
posed now  to  the  hot  winds  blowang 
from  Texas  was  tinged  with  a  golden 
brown.  The  lads  from  Saint  Antonio 
and  the  Lakes,  who  on  the  slightest 
provocation  squared  their  fists  at  each 
other,  agreed  in  one  thing:  that  Ma- 
risha's  eyes  looking  out  from  under  her 
silky  hair  were  like  com  flowers  in  a 
wheat  field,  and  she  the  prettiest  girl 
human  eyes  had  ever  beheld. 


The  New  Settlement.  115 

Laurence  derived  much  benefit  from 
his  daiigh]ter's  beauty.  He  chose  for 
himself  the  best  piece  of  land  and  no- 
body said  him  nay  because  all  the  lads 
were  on  his  side.  Many  of  them  helped 
him  to  prepare  the  timber  and  stack  it, 
and  the  old  man  who  was  shrewd  and 
saw  what  they  were  aiming  at,  from 
time  to  time  threw  out  a  hint: 

"My  little  daughter,"  he  said,  "is  like 
a  lily  of  the  fields,  a  very  jewel  of  a 
girl.  Some  day  I  will  choose  a  husband 
for  her  from  among  the  lads  that  help 
me  most  and  please  me  best;  but  he 
must  be  a  decent  lad  ];)ecause  she  comes 
from  a  decent  family  that  owned  their 
own  lands  in  the  old  country. 

Everyone  who  helped  him  thought 
he  was  furthering  his  suit.  Consequent- 
ly Laurence  was  better  off  than  many 
others  and  everything  would  have  been 
well  with  him  had  there  been  any  future 
for  the  settlement. 


116  Tor  Daily  Bread. 

But  things  grew  worse  instead  of  bet- 
ter. The  axe  still  sounded  in  the  for- 
est and  here  and  there  rose  the  yellow 
logs  of  a  cabin  but  it  was  but  as  a  drop 
of  water  in  the  ocean.  The  dark,  im- 
penetrable wall  of  the  forest  still  loomed 
up  before  them  showing  scarcely  any 
sign  of  being  broken. 

Tliose  who  had  penetrated  a  little 
further  into  the  thicket,  reported  that 
the  forest  had  no  limit,  that  awful 
swamps  and  bayous,  and  still,  stagnant 
waters,  full  of  strange  creatures  had  im- 
peded their  march,  they  had  heard  the 
hissing  of  the  serpents  and  strange 
voices  calling  out  in  warning:  "Do  not 
go  further."  Uncanny  shrubs  stretch- 
ing out  their  branches  had  clutched 
them  by  their  garments.  A  lad  from 
Chicago  swore  he  had  seen  the  devil 
raising  his  hairy  head  from  a  swamp  and 
snorting  at  him  so  fiercely  that  he  ran 
for  dear  life  back  to  the  camp.     The 


The  New  Settlement.  117 

men  from  Texas  laughed  at  him,  and 
said  it  must  have  been  a  buffalo  he  had 
seen,  but  nothing  could  shake  his  belief 
that  it  was  the  evil  one  himself  that 
appeared  to  him.  Superstition  added 
new  terrors  tO'  their  already  doleful 
plight.  A  few  days  later  two  bolder 
lads  ventured  upon  another  exploration 
of  the  woods  and  were  never  heard  of 
again. 

People  began  to  sicken  from  over- 
work and  fever.  Quarrels  and  conten- 
tions grew  fiercer;  cattle  which  had  not 
been  marked  by  their  owners  was  claim- 
ed by  those  who  had  no'  right  to  them. 
At  last  the  camp  broke  up  altogether 
and  the  different  parties  shifted  their 
wagons  as  far  as  possible  from  each 
other.  It  became  evident  that  their 
provisions  would  give  out  and  hunger 
stare  them  in  the  face  long  before  any- 
thing could  be  expected  from  the  soil. 
Despair  got  hold  of  the  people.     The 


118  For  Daily  Bread. 

sound  of  the  axe  grew  fainter  because 
patience  and  courage  were  lacking;  but 
even  now  they  would  have  worked  if 
anybody  had  told  them  "this  is  your  un- 
disputed property."  As  it  was,  nobody 
knew  which  was  his  and  which  was  his 
neighbor's.  They  began  to  see  that 
nothing  was  left  for  them,  but  to  perish 
in  the  wilderness.  Those  who  still  had 
some  money  left  took  their  wagons  and 
went  back  to  Clarksville.  But  the 
greater  portion  of  the  people  had  sunk 
eveiy  penny  they  possessed  in  this  ven- 
ture and  had  nothing  left  with  which 
to  retum.  These  wrung  their  hands  in 
bitter  despair.  The  axes  were  at  last 
thrown  asid^  and  the  forest  rustled  as 
if  mocking  at  the  insignificance  of  hu- 
man efforts. 

"We  might  go  on  cutting  trees  for 
two  years  and  then  die  of  hunger,"  said 
one  peasant  to  another. 

One  evening  Laurence  came  to  Ma- 
risha,  and  said: 


The  New  Settlement.  119 

"It  is  clear  tliat  starvation  is  before 
us,  we  shall  perish  with  the  others." 

"God's  will  be  done,"  replied  the  girl. 
"He  has  shown  us  mercy  before  and  will 
not  desert  us  now." 

Saying  this  she  raised  her  blue  eyes 
to  the  starlit  heaven,  and  with  the  re- 
flection of  the  fire  surrounding  her  fair 
head  as  with  a  halo  she  looked  the  pic- 
ture of  a  sweet  saint. 

The  lads  from  Chicago  and  hunters 
from  Texas  called  out: 

"Marisha,  our  sunli2,lit,  we  will  stand 
by  you." 

She  thought  within  herself  that  there 
was  one  only  with  whom  she  would  go 
to  the  end  of  the  world:  Jan,  from  Li- 
pince.  He  had  promised  to  swim  across 
the  water  like  a  drake,  to  fly  through 
the  air  on  wings,  and  roll  along  the  road 
like  a  golden  ring;  but  he  had  not  come, 
the  only  one  she  cared  for  had  forgotten 
her. 


120  For  Dailj  Bread. 

Marisha  liad  noticed  long  ago  that  the 
settlement  was  doomed,  but  her  trust 
in  Providence  remained  unshaken,  and 
her  soul  purified  in  the  fire^  of  adversity 
shone  serene  and  calm  through  her  lim- 
pid eyes. 

Beside  she  remembered  the  old  gen- 
tleman at  'New  York  who  had  helped 
them  before  and  promised  to  help  again 
if  they  needed  it. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  confusion  in 
the  camp  grew  from  bad  to  worse. 
People  escaped  from  it  in  the  night- 
time, and  what  became  of  them  it 'was 
difficult  to  say.  And  still  around  them 
the  forest  rustled  and  waved  its  trees 
and  branches  mocking  at  their  helplessr 
ness. 

Old  Laurence  fell  ill  from  overstrain- 
ing his  muscles.  He  felt  pains  in  his 
back  and  all  his  limbs.  For  two  days 
he  said  nothing  about  it,  the  third  day 
he  could  not  rise  from  his  improvised 


The  New  Settlement.  121 

bed,  Marisha  went  to  the  woods,  gath- 
ered a  quantity  of  moss  and  prepared 
for  him  a  bed  on  the  timber  rafters 
which  he  had  put  together  for  the  erec- 
tion of  their  cabin;  then  set  herself  to 
concocting  a  cordial  from  various  herbs 
and  spirit. 

"Marisha,"  murmured  the  old  man, 
"death  is  creeping  towards  me  from  yon 
black  forest  and  thou  wilt  remain  an 
orphan  alone  in  the  world.  God  is  now 
punishing  me  for  my  heavy  sins  in 
bringing  you  out  here,  and  my  last  hours 
will  be  full  of  anguish." 

'T)addy,"  replied  the  girl,  "It  was  my 
bounden  duty  to  go  with  you,  I  would 
not  have  let  you  come  alone." 

"If  I  left  thee  with  a  protector  and 
saw  thee  married  I  could  die  easier. 
Marisha!  take  Black  Orlik  for  thy  hus- 
l^nd,  he  is  a  good  lad  and  will  take  care 
of  thee." 

Black  Orlik,  the  great  hunter  from 


122  For  Daily  Bread. 

Texas,  who  heard  this  fell  on  his  knees 
before  the  sick  man,  and  spoke  up: 

"Your  blessing,  father!  I  love  the  lasg 
more  than  my  life.  The  woods  and  I 
are  old  friends,  and  I  will  not  let  her 
come  to  harm." 

Saying  this  he  looked  out  of  his  fal- 
con eyes  at  the  girl,  but  she  sank  down 
at  the  old  man's  feet. 

"Do  not  force  me.  Daddy,  I  must  re- 
main faithful  to  him  I  promised." 

"You  will  never  be  his,  because  I 
shall  kill  him.  You  must  b©  mine  or 
nobody's,"  replied  Black  Orlik.  "They 
all  will  perish  here  and  you  will  perish 
also  unless  I  save  you." 

Black  Orlik  was  right.  The  utter 
destruction  of  the  settlement  was  merely 
a  question  of  time.  They  had  already 
begun  to  slay  the  cattle  bought  for  till- 
ing the  soil.  Fever  became  more  fre- 
quent; people  either  cursed  or  cried  out 
to  heaven  in  a  loud  voice.     One  Sun- 


The  New  Settlement.         123 

day  all  the  men,  women  and  children 
knelt  down  together  and  there  rose  a 
chorus  of  monrful  voices: 

"O  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us!  O 
Lord,  save  and  deliver  us  from  evil." 

The  voices  often  broken  by  sobs  rose 
to  the  canopy  of  heaven  and  the  forest 
mumiured  and  rustled  "I  am  King  here, 
I  am  Master,  I  am  the  stronger." 

But  Orlik,  who  knew  the  woods,  look- 
ed up  with  gleaming  eyes  as  if  measur- 
ing his  strength  with  that  impenetrable 
wall,  and  then  said  aloud: 

"We  will  have  a  hand  to  hand  tussle 
by  and  by." 

The  men  looked  at  Orlik  with  aston- 
ishment. Those  who  had  known  him 
in  Texas  believed  in  him  implicitly,  be- 
cause he  was  a  great  hunter,  famous 
even  among  the  Texas  hunters.  He 
was  powerfully  built  and  would  engage 
a  grizzly  single  handed.  At  Saint  An- 
tonio, where    he    had    formerly  lived, 


124  For  Daily  Bread. 

they  knew  that  when  he  took  his  rifle, 
he  might  often  disappear  for  months 
together,  but  always  came  back  un- 
harmed and  in  excellent  condition. 
They  called  him  Black  Orlik  from  his 
tanned  complexion.  Some  said  that  at 
a  time  he  was  one  of  a  band  of  pirates 
but  that  was  not  true.  He  brought 
skins  from  the  woods,  sometimes  Indian 
scalps,  until  the  priest  threatened  him 
with  excommunication.  Now  he  was 
almost  the  only  one  in  Borovina  who 
did  not  care  what  happened.  He  was 
not  troubled  about  the  future.  The 
woods  gave  him  food,  shelter,  and  cloth- 
ing. When  the  people  began  to  desert 
the  place  he  took  things  into  his  own 
hands  and  in  this  he  was  backed  up  by 
the  lads  from  Texas.  "When  after  the 
public  prayers  he  was  challenging  the 
forest,  people  thought  he  must  have  a 
new  scheme  in  hand  and  began  to  grow 
less  despondent. 


The  New  Settlement.         125 

The  sun  had  set.  High  up,  between 
the  branches  of  the  dark  hickory  trees 
gleamed  a  yellow  light  which  gradually 
changed  into  red  and  then  disappeared. 
There  was  a  strong  wind  blowing  from 
the  South,  when  at  dusk  Orlik  seized 
his  rifle  and  went  into  the  woods. 

The  night  was  very  dark  when  the 
people  in  the  camp  saw  something  like  a 
great  shining  star  rising  in  the  distance 
above  the  forest;  then  appeared  a  sec- 
ond, a  third,  which  increased  in  volume, 
spreading  all  round  a  red,  glaring  light. 

"The  forest  is  on  fire !  the  forest  is  on 
fire!"  shouted  the  terrified  spectators. 

Great  flocks  of  birds  rose  screaming 
and  chattering  from  the  thickets.  The 
cattle  began  lowing  mournfully,  the 
dogs  howled,  and  people  panic  stricken 
rushed  aimlessly  about  in  fear  less  the 
flames  might  reach  the  camp.  The  con- 
flagration spread  rapidly,  the  flames 
diffused  themselves  like  water  running 


126  For  Daily  Bread. 

along  the  dead  creepers.  The  wind  tore 
off  the  burning  leaves  and  carried  them 
along  like  so  many  fiery  birds. 

The  hickory  trees  exploded  with  a 
report  like  cannons.  Like  fiery  ser- 
pents the  flames  writhed  and  twisted 
around  the^  resinous  undergrowth.  The 
hissing  and  roaring  of  the  fire  mingled 
with  the  screaming  of  birds  and  bellow- 
ing of  beasts  rose  into  a  tumult  inde- 
scribable. The  tall  trees  like  so  many 
fiery  columns  swayed  to  and  fro.  The 
burning  creepers  torn  off  from  the  trees 
seemed  to  stretch  out  demoniacal  arms 
sending  the  fiery  element  from  tree  to 
tree.  The  sky  was  of  a  dusky  red  as 
if  the  conflagration  had  spread  into  the 
heavens  above.  It  was  almost  as  light 
as  in  the  daytime.  Then  all  the  flames 
blended  into  one  huge  mass  of  fire  which 
like  the  breath  of  destruction  or  the 
wrath  of  God  rushed  through  the  forest. 
The  smoke  and    heat  and    smell  of 


The  New  Settlement.  127 

burning  wood  became  almost  overpower- 
ing. The  people,  though  not  threatened 
bj  immediate  danger,  were  still  wildly 
nishing  about  searching  and  calling  for 
each  other,  w^hen  suddenly  from  out  of 
the  burning  woods,  lit  up  by  falling 
sparks,  emerged  the  figure  of  Black  Or- 
lik.  His  face  was  begrimed  with  smoke 
and  his  eyes  looked  fierce  and  exultant. 
They  surrounded  him  from  all  sides,  and 
he  leaning  on  his  rifle  he  said: 

"You  will  not  have  to  cut  trees  any 
longer.  I  have  burned  the  woods.  To- 
morrow you  shall  have,  each  of  you,  as 
much  land  as  you  can  manage."  Then 
approaching  Marisha,  he  whispered: 

"You  must  be  mine  now,  for  it  was 
I  who  burned  the  forest.  Who  is 
stronger  than  I?" 

The  girl  trembled  in  every  limb  be- 
cause the  wild  elements  seemed  to  be 
reflected  in  Orlik's  eyes  and  he  was  ter- 
rible to  look  at. 


128  For  Daily  Bread. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  set 
foot  on  American  soil,  she  thanked  God 
that  her  Jan  was  far  away  in  the' quiet 
Lipince  village. 

The  roaring  fiery  waves    rushed  on 
their  mad    career   further   and  further 
away  from  the  camp;  at  daybreak  the 
sky  was  overcast  and    threatened  rain. 
The  few  people  who  ventured  into  the 
neighborhood  of  the  smouldering  woods 
were  driven  back  by  the  intense  heat. 
The  whole  day  a  heavy  fog  hung  in  the 
air  and  shrouded  the  whole  landscape 
from    view.     At  night,  rain    began  to 
fall,  which    presently    changed    into   a 
heavy  downpour.     Maybe  the  conflag- 
ration shaking  the  atmosphere  contrib- 
uted to  the  breaking  of  the  clouds,  or 
perhaps  it  was  the    time  when    heavy 
rains  fell  in  these  regions  of  big  rivers, 
swamps,  and  lakes.     The  whole  encamp- 
ment grew  soft  and  muddy  and  looked 
like  a  vast  marsh.     The  people  exposed 


The  Xew  Settlement  1-^ 

to  continual  wet  began  to  sicken.  More 
of  the  people  left  the  settlement  for 
Clarksville,  but  return-ed  soon  after  mth 
the  terrible  news  that  the  river  had  risen 
and  their  retreat  was  cut  otf. 

Consternation  prevailed  in  the  camp, 
provisions  were  short,  and  now  they 
coiild  get  nothing  from  Clarksville. 

Laurence  and  Marisha  were  less  ex- 
posed to  hunger  than  the  others  because 
Orlik's  strong  hand  protected  them. 
Every  morning  he  brought  some  game 
which  he  either  shot  or  caught  in  snares. 
He  had  put  his  own  tent  over  their  cabin 
wall  to  protect  Marisha  and  the  old  man 
from  rain  and  wind.  Marisha  was  ob- 
liged to  accept  all  his  gifts  and  be  grate- 
ful to  him,  he  would  take  nothing  in 
return  but  that  which  Marisha  would 
not  give  him;  her  love. 

"There  are  other  girls  in  the  world," 
she  said,  "  go  and  choose    one  among 


130  For  Daily  Bread. 

them.     You  know  my  heart  belongs  to 
another." 

"If  I  were  to  search  the  whole  world 
over,  I  would  not  find  one  like  you. 
You  are  the  only  one  for  me  and  you 
must  be  mine.  "What  will  you  do  if 
the  old  man  dies?  You  will  come  to  me 
of  your  own  accord  and  I  shall  carry 
you  off  into  the  forest  as  the  wolf  car- 
ries a  lambkin;  but  not  to  devour  you. 
Whom  do  I  fear?  Let  him  come  here, 
that  lover  of  yours,  and  we  shall  see 
who  is  the  stronger  man." 

When  Orlik  spoke  about  the  old  man 
dying  he  judged  by  what  he  saw.  Lau- 
rence was  rapidly  growing  worse; 
sometimes  delirious,  and  always  be- 
moaning his  fate  that  the  Lord 
was  punishing  him  for  his  sins  and 
that  never  again  would  he  behold  his 
native  village.  Orlik  promised  and 
vowed  to  take  Marisha  back  to  Lipince, 
but  this  added  more    bitterness  to  the 


The  New  Settlement.  131 

girl's  sorrow.  To  go  back  to  the  viUage 
where  Jan  lived  as  the  wife  of  another 
— no!  it  were  better  to  remain  here  and 
die  in  the  wilderness.  She  thought  that 
would  be  her  fate. 

A  new  disaster  was  in  store  for  the 
settlers.  One  night  when  Orlik  was  ab- 
sent on  one  of  his  hunting  expeditions, 
a  great  cry  was  heard  in  the  encamp- 
ment: "The  water!  the  water!" 

The  startled  settlers  rubbed  their  eyes, 
looked  round  and  saw  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  a  greyish-white'  expanse 
bubbling  with  heavy  raindrops,  and  a 
watery  cloud-obscured  m;oon  threw  her 
steely  light  on  the  rippling  water.  From 
the  woods  where  the  half  charred  stumps 
were  dimly  visible  came  the  sound  of 
rushing  waves  a  great  tumult  arose 
The  women  and  children  climbed  on  the 
wagons;  the  men  were  rushing  into  the 
direction  opposite  where  the  trees  had 
not  been  cut  down.     The  water  barely 


132  For  Daily  Bread. 

reached  their  knees  but  was  rising  rap- 
idly. The  sound  of  rushing  waters 
grew  louder,  and  mingled  with  the  cries 
of  terror  and  entreaties  for  help.  Pres- 
ently the  animals  began  to  retreat  from 
place  to  place,  driven  by  the  pressure 
of  the  water.  The  sheep  with  plaintive 
bleating  seemed  tO'  ask  for  help  till  they 
disappeared  carried  away  by  the  current. 
It  rained  in  ton*ents  and  soon  the  dis- 
tant rushing  of  the  waters  changed  into 
the  roar  of  the  unfettered  elements. 
The  wagons  began  to  sway  and  totter 
under  the  pressure.  It  soon  became 
evident  that  this  was  not  an  ordinary 
flood  caiused  by  heavy  rainfall  but  an 
overflotw  from  the  Arkansas  and  its  trib- 
utaries. The  trees  snapped  like  reeds 
or  were  torn  out  by  the  roots,  the  ele- 
ments seemed  to  be  unchained  carrying 
with  them  darkness  and  death. 

One  of  the  wagons  standing  nearest 
the  woods  toppled  over.     At  the  heart- 


The  jSTew  Settlement.  133 

rending  cries  of  the  women,  the  dark 
figures  of  several  men  were  seen  leap- 
ing from  the  trees,  but  the  waves  car- 
ried the  would-be  rescuers  into  the  for- 
est to  perish.  In  other  wagons  people 
clung  to  the  canvass  roofs.  The  rain 
came  dowm  unceasingly  and  still  greater 
darkness  fell  on  the  dusky  lake. 

Sometimes  a  log  w^ith  a  human  being 
clinging  to  it  was  bobbing  up  and  down 
along  the  current;  sometimes  the  dark 
form  of  an«  animal  or  a  man,  sometimes 
a  haoid  was  stretched  out  of  the  water 
and  then  disappeared  forever. 

The  bellowing  of  the  beasts  and  the 
agonizing  cries  and  prayers  of  human 
beings  were  drowned  alike  in  the  mighty 
roaring  of  the  waters.  "Whirlpools  and 
eddies  were  fonning  on  the  grassy  plain, 
the  Avagons  were  fast  disappearing. 

And  Laurence  and  Marisha,  what  had 
become  of  tliem?  The  timbered  wall 
on  which  Laurence  was  lying  covered 


134  For  Daily  Bread. 

by  Orlik's  tent  had  saved  them  for  the 
moment,  as  it  floated  on  the  water  like 
a  raft.  The  eddies  turned  it  round  and 
round,  and  the  current  carried  it  towards 
the  woods  and  bumping  against  one 
tree  and  another  pushed  it  into  the  bed 
of  the  stream  and  further  out  intO'  the 
darkness. 

Marisha  kneeling  by  her  father's 
couch,  raised  her  han.ds  to  Heaven,  call- 
ing for  help  from  above;  but  her  only 
answer  was  the  splashing  of  the  water 
against  the  wooden-  raft. 

The  tent  had  been  carried  off  by  the 
wind,  and  the  few  planks  their  only 
refuge  might  be  dashed  to  pieces  any 
moment. 

Presently  it  stuck  fast  between  the 
branches  of  a  tree,  the  top  of  which  rose 
above  the  water  At  the  same  minute 
a  human  voice  called  out  to  them: 

"Take  my  rifle  and  move  to  the  fur- 
ther side  of  the  raft  to  keep  in  it  bal- 
ance.    I  am  going  to  jump  down." 


The  New  Settlement.  135 

As  soon  as  Laurence  and  Marisha  had 
obeved  these  instructions  a  dark  figure 
jumped  from  the  branches  on  to  the 
raft. 

It  was  Orlik. 

"Marisha,"  he  said,  "as  I  promised,  so 
I  will  stand  by  thee ;  and  may  God  deal 
with  me  a?  I  deal  by  you." 

He  took  the  axe  hanging  at  his  side, 
cut  off  a  stout  branch,  fashioned  it 
quickly  to  suit  his  purpose,  pushed  the 
raft  out  of  the  tree,  and  began  to  row. 

Once  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  the 
cun-ent  increased  their  speed  and  they 
floated  on  and  on;  where  they  went  they 
did  not  know. 

From  time  to  time  Orlik  turned  the 
raft  aside  in  order  to  avoid  trees,  or 
pushed  stumps  or  branches  out  of  the 
way.  His  strength  seemed  to  increase 
with  ever\-  difficulty  and  his  eyes,  in 
spite  of  the  darkness,  noticed  everything 
that    might    endanger    their    fragile 


136  For  Daily  Bread. 

craft.  Hour  after  hour  passed.  Anj 
ordinary  man  would  have  succumbed 
under  the  strain;  but  he  did  not  show 
any  sign  of  fatigue.  Near  daybreak 
they  came  out  of  the  forest;  not  a  sin- 
gle tree  was  visible  in  the  distance. 
The  Avhole  country  looked  like  one  vast 
sea.  Hideous,  foaming  waves  rolled 
and  whirled  over  the  plain.  It  became 
lighter,  and  Orlik  seeing  that  no  imme- 
diate danger  was  to  be  apprehended 
stopped  rowing  for  a  moment,  and  turn- 
ing to  Marisha,  he  said: 

"You  are  mine  now,  because  I 
snatched  you  from  the  jaws  of  death." 
His  head  was  bare,  and  his  face  wet 
and  glowing  from  the  single-handed 
fight  with  the  elements,  had  such  an 
expression  of  power  and  masterfulness, 
that  for  the  first  time  Marisha  dared 
not  reply  that  she  belonged  to  another. 
"Marisha,"  said  the  lad  softly,  "Ma- 
risha, dearest." 


The  New  Settlement.  137 

'^here  are  we    going?"  she  asked, 
endeavoring  to  change  the  subject. 

"What  do  I  care,  as  long  as  we  are 
together,  sweetheart." 

"Go  on  rowing,  because  death  is  still 
around  us." 

Orlik  began  to  row  vigorously.  Lau- 
rence in  the  meanwhile  had  grown 
worse  and  worse.  Sometimes  he  was 
delirious,  sometimes  conscious,  but  he 
grew  weaker  every  minute.  It  was  too 
great  a  shock,  and  too  much  suffering 
for  his  old  wornout  body.  He  was 
drawing  fast  towards  the  last  stage  of  his 
wanderings.  At  noon  he  woke  up  and 
said: 

"Marisha !  I  shall  not  see  the  dawn  of 
another  day.  Oh,  child!  child!  why 
did  I  leave  my  home  and  drag  thee  with 
me  into  misery?  But  God  is  merciful; 
I  have  suffered  much,  and  He  will  for- 
give my  sins.  Bury  me  if  you  can  and 
let  Orlik  take  thee  to  New  York.     The 


J  38  For  Daily  Bread. 

good  gentleman  will  take  care  of  thee, 
and  send  thee  back  to  Linince.  I  shall 
not  see  it  any  more.  Oh,  God!  merci- 
ful and  jnst,  let  my  soul  take  wings, 
and  see  the  old  home  once  again." 

The  fever  again  increased  and  he  be- 
gan to  pray  aloud;  and  then  called  out  in 
a  terrified  voice :  "Do  not  throw  me  into 
the  water  as  if  I  were  a  dog."  He 
seemed  suddenly, to  remember  how  he 
had  tried  to  drown  Marisha  so  as  to  put 
her  out  of  her  misery,  and  cried  out 
in  piteous  tones:  "Child,  forgive!  for- 
give!" 

The  poor  girl  was  seated  at  his  side, 
sobbing  pitifully;  and  Orlik  took  the 
oar  with  a  finner  grasp  while  tears 
gripped  him  by  the  throat. 

Towards  evening  it  cleared  up.  The 
sun  burst  out  and  threw  a  flood  of  light 
on  the  watery  desert.  The  old  man  was 
dying,  but  God  was  good  to  him  and 
gave  him  an  easy  end.  First  he  repeated 


The  New  Settlement.  139 

in    mournful    tones,     over    and    over 
again : 

"Whj  did  I  leave  my  own  country 
and  my  own  village?"  by  degrees  the 
feeble  voice  grew  more  cheerful.     He 
was  on  his  way  home.     The  gentleman 
at  ISTew  York  had  given  him  money  to 
buy  his  little  homestead  back  again  and 
they  are  both  on  their  way  home.  They 
are  on  the  ocean;  the  ship  goes  night 
and    day,  and    the    sailors  are  singing. 
Then  he  sees  the  harbor  whence  he  em- 
barked,    towns      fly      past     him,     he 
hears  the  sounds  of  German  speech,  the 
train  goes  faster  and  faster  and  he  is 
getting  nearer  home.     Joy  is  expanding 
his  breast,  how  different  the  air  feels, 
how    sweet    and    refreshing.     What  is 
this — the  frontier?     The  peasant's  sim- 
ple heart  beats  like  a  sledge  hammer. 
Go  on!  go  on!    Good  God,  there  are 
the  fields!  that  is    Malick's  pear  tree, 
the  grey  cabins,  and  the  church.  There 
is  a  peasant  in  his  square-  cap  ploughing 


140  For  Daily  Bread. 

the  field.  He  stretches  his  hands  out 
to  him  in  greeting.  There  is  the  last 
station  and  then  comes  Lipince.  Both 
he  and  Marisha  are  going  along  the  road 
weeping.  It  is  spring,  the  wheat  is  in 
bloom,  and  the  cockchafers  are  buzzing 
in  the  air.  They  are  ringing  the  bell 
for  the  Angelus.  O  Lord  Jesus,  it  is 
too  much  happiness  for  a  sinful  man. 
One  hill  to  climb  and  there  is  the  vil- 
lage cross  and  the  boundary  of  Lipince. 
The  peasant  throws  himself  on  the 
ground  and  cries  like  a  child,  he  crawls 
up  to  the  cross  and  hugs  it  with  both 
arms;  he  is  home  again. 

Yes,  he  is  at  home;  because  only  the 
soulless  body  remains  on  the  raft  in  the 
midst  of  the  surging  flood,  and  his  spirit 
has  gone  where  is  peace  and  happiness. 
In  vain  are  the  sobs  and  cries  of  his 
daughter:  "Daddy,  dear.  Daddy!"  Poor 
Marisha,  he  will  not  return  to  thee !  He 
is  too  happy  in  his  new  home! 


The  N'ew  Settlement.  141 

The  night  had  come.  The  improv- 
ised oar  almost  dropped  from  Orlik's 
blistered  hands  and  hnnger  had  begim 
to  tonnent  them.  Marisha,  kneeling 
near  her  father's  body,  was  praying;  and 
all  around  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but 
the  water.  Had  they  entered  into  an- 
other river?  because  the  current  was 
carrying  them  along  very  fast  or  maybe 
they  were  on  the  prairie  as  the  whirl- 
pools and  eddies  caused  by  the  hollows 
were  often  turning  the  raft  round  and 
roimd  and  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
steer  it.  Orlik  felt  himself  growing 
"fainter,  when  suddenly,  he  stood  straight 
lip  and  shouted  excitedly: 

"By  the  wounds  of  Christ!  there  is 
a  light."  Marisha  looked  in  the  direc- 
tion where  his  arm  pointed,  and  saw  a 
feeble  light  with  its  ray  reflected  in  the 
water. 

"It  is  the  boat  from  Clarksville,"  said 
Orlik  quickly,  "It  has  been  sent  out  by 


142  For  Daily  Bread. 

the  tO'wn  to  save  lives.  If  they  could 
only  see  us!  Marisha!  cheer  up,  help 
is  at  hand,"  and  he  called  out  with  all 
his  might  "Hoop!  halloa!"  rowing  at 
the  same  time  with  redoubled  vigor. 

The  light  gradually  increased  and  by 
its  red  glow  they  could  distinctly  see 
the  outline  of  a  large  boat.  They  were 
still  far  away  from  it,  but  the  distance 
seemed  to  lessen. 

"Is  my  eyesight  failing,"  muttered 
Orlik,  after  he  had  rowed  some  time, 
or  does  the  light  appear  smaller.  Yes, 
it  was  growing  smaller  and  dimmer; 
they  had  evidently  drifted  into  another 
current. 

Suddenly  the  oar  broke  in  Orlik's 
powerful  hands  and  the  current  carried 
them  swiftly  further  away  from  the 
light.  Fortunately  the  raft  stuck  fast 
in  the  branches  of  a  lonely  tree.  Both 
shouted  for  help  but  the  rushing  water 
drowned  their  voices. 


The  New  Settlement.  143 

"1  am  going  to  fire,"  said  Orlik. 
"They  will  see  the  flash  and  hear  the 
report." 

x\.s  soon  as  he  said  this  he  raised  his 
rifle  but  instead  of  a  flash  and  crack  there 
was  only  the  click  of  the  hammer.  The 
powder  was  wet. 

Orlik  threw  himself  down  on  the  raft, 
and  remained  there  like  one  bereft  of 
his  senses.  Presently  he  raised  himself. 
"Marisha,"  he  said,  in  a  half  dreamy 
voice:  "I  think  you  have  fairly  be- 
witched me;  if  you  were  like  other  girls 
I  should  have  carried  you  off  by  force 
long  ago;  there  was  a  time  when  I 
thought  of  it,  but  dared  not  do  it  for 
I  loved  you.  Like  a  wolf  I  roamed 
solitary  in  the  forest  and  people  were 
afraid  of  me,  and  now  I  am  timid  in 
the  presence  of  a  girl.  I  will  save  you 
yet  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  If  you 
cannot  love  me  it  were  better  you 
should  be  free  from  me.  Marisha,  my 
love,  my  sunlight,  farewell!" 


144  For  Daily  Bread. 

Before  she  realized  wliat  lie  was  going 
to  do  lie  had  jumped  from  the  raft  into 
the  whirling  storm.  For  a  moment 
she  saw  his  dark  head  emerging  from 
the  water  and  his  arms  striking  out. 
Then  he  disappeared  from  view.  He 
was  swimming  towards  the  boat  to  sum- 
mon help.  The  fierce  current  impeded 
his  motions  and  dragged  him  back.  If 
he  could  have  got  into  smoother  water 
he  might  have  done  it,  for  he  was  an 
expert  swimmer,  but  in  spite  of  super- 
human effort  he  made  little  progress. 
The  yellow  foaming  water  blinded  his 
eyes,  he  raised  his  head  and  peered 
through  the  darkness  to  see  the  light 
of  the  boat.  Sometimes  a  bigger  wave 
threw  him  back,  another  lifted  him  up, 
his  breath  came  quicker  and  quicker, 
and  he  felt  his  knees  growing  stiff.  He 
seemed  to  hear  the  voice  of  Marisha 
calling  for  help,  and  braced  himself  for 
a  fresh  effort.    Even  now  he  could  have 


The  :N'ew  Settlement.  145 

gone  back  to  the  raft,  carried  by  the 
current,  but  he  did  not  even  think  of  it, 
because  the  lights  of  the  boat  seemed 
to  come  nearer.  The  fact  was  that  the 
boat  came  into  his  direction  carried  by 
the  same  current  that  he  was  struggling 
against.  A  few  more  strokes  and  he 
will  reach  it. 

"Help!  Help!"  The  last  cry  was  half 
smothered  by  the  water  which  entered 
into  his  throat.  A  wave  passed  over  him 
but  he  arose  again.  The  boat  was  so 
close  to  him  that  he  heard  the  splashing 
of  the  oars.  He  gathered  his  strength 
for  another  ciy.  They  had  evidently 
heard  him,  because  the  strokes  of  the 
oars  became  faster.  But  Orlik  went 
down  again.  A  hideous  whirlpool 
dragged  him  under.  Once  more  he  ap- 
peared on  the  surface,  then  one  hand  is 
lifted  above  the  water,  then  the  other, 
presently  he  disappeared  altogether. 

"In  the  meanwhile  Marisha  on  the 
10 


146  For  Daily  Bread. 

raft  alone  witli  the  body  of  her  father 
stared  half  unconsciously  at  the  far  off 
lisht.  Then,  was  it  her  feverish  fancy? 
but  it  seemed  to  come  nearer,  bear  down 
upon  her,  the  huge  boat  which  in  the 
red  light  and  fast  moving  oars  looked 
like  an  immense  beetle. 

Marisha  utterd  piercing  cries  for  help. 

"I  say,  Smith;  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
didn't  hear  cries  of  help  a  few  minutes 
ago,  and  just  now  I  heard  them  again." 

A  few  moments  later  strong  anus  car- 
ried Marisha  into  the  boat,  but  Orlik 
was  not  there. 

Two  months  later  Marisha  left  the 
hospital  of  Little  Rock,  and  with  money 
provided  by  charitable  people,  set  out 
on  her  way  to  New  York. 

The  money  was  not  sufficient  and  she 
had  to  go  part  of  the  way  on  foot,  but 
she  could  now  speak  a  little  English, 
and  sometimes  the  conductors  would 
give  her  a  lift.     Many  people  showed 


The  Xew  Settlement.  147 

pity  to  the  pale  girl  with  the  large  bine 
eyes  who-  looked  more  like  a  shadow 
than  a  human  being.  People  were  not 
hard;  it  was  life  and  its  conditions  which 
bore  hardly  on  her.  What  business  had 
this  little  Polish  wildflower  in  the  Amer- 
ican whirlpool?  The  big  wheels  of  life 
would  crush  her  frail  life  as  cart  wheels 
pass  over  the  flowers  on  a  meadow. 

With  weak  and  trembling  hand  she 
pulled  the  bell  of  the  house  in  Water 
street,  in  Xew  York;  in  search  of  help 
from  the  good  old  gentleman  who  hailed 
from  Posen  like  herself.  A  stranger 
opened  the  door: 

"Is  Mister  Ilotopvlski  at  home  ?" 

"Who's  he?" 

"A  gentleman,  well  on  in  years,"  here 
•"•he  produced  the  card. 

"He  is  dead." 

"Dead?  and  his  son,  Master  William?" 

"Gone  away." 

"And  Miss  Jenny?" 


148  For  Daily  Bread. 

"Gone  away." 

The  door  was  shut  in  her  face.  She 
sat  down  on  the  threshold  and  wiped  her 
eyes.  Here  she  was  again  in  New  York, 
alone  without  protection  or  money,  de- 
pending on  God  alone. 

What  is  she  to  do  now?  Stay  at  New 
York?  No,  never.  She  would  go  to 
the  docks  and  beg  the  captains  to  take 
her  back  to  Hamburg.  From  there,  on 
foot  and  begging  her  bread  she  would 
go  back  to  Lipince.  Jan  was  there.  If 
he  has  forgotten  his  love,  and  spurns 
her  she  would  at  least  die  in  the  old 
place. 

She  went  to  the  docks  and  humbly 
begged  the  German  captains  to  take  her 
on  their  ships.  Some  of  them  might 
have  done  so,  because  with  a  little  bet- 
ter living  she  would  look  a  comely  lass, 
but  the  rules  were  against  it,  and  they 
bade  her  to  go  away. 

Marisha  spent  her  nights  on  the  same 


The  New  Settlement.  149 

pier  "where  they  had  slept  that  never  to 
be  forgotten  night,  she  and  her  father. 
Fortunately  it  was  summer,  and  the 
nights  were  wann. 

At  daybreak  she  was  always  at  the 
German  docks  to  renew  her  prayers  to 
be  taken  across  the  Atlantic  and  always 
in  vain.  She  grew  weaker  every  day, 
and  felt  that  unless  she  sailed  soon,  she 
would  die,  as  died  all  those  that  had 
been  connected  Avith  her  fate.  But, 
with  the  quiet  endurance  of  the  peasant 
she  still  clung  to  hope. 

One  morning  she  crept  there  thinking 
it  would  be  the  last  time,  as  her  strength 
was  ebbing  fast.  She  resolved  to  beg 
no  more,  but  get  into  a  ship  sailing  for 
Europe,  and  hide  somewhere  quietly. 
When,  later  on,  they  should  find  her 
they  would  not  throw  her  into  the  water; 
and  if  they  did,  what  would  it  matter? 
It  was  all  one  to  her  how  she  died,  if 
die    she  must.     But    on  the    gangway 


150  For  Daily  Bread. 

leading  to  the  ship,  the  man  on  watch 
rudely  pushed  her  back.  She  sat  down 
on  some  lumber  near  the  water  and 
thought  the  fever  was  getting  hold  of 
her  again.  She  began  to  smile  strange- 
ly and  mutter  to  herself: 

''I  am  a  great  heiress  now,  but  always 
faithful.  Jan,  don't  you  recognize 
your  Marisha?" 

It  was  not  fever  but  insanity. 

Henceforth  she  came  every  day  to 
the  docks  to  wait  for  the  ship  which  was 
to  bring  her  lover.  People  came  to 
know  her  and  gave  her  small  gifts.  She 
thanked  them  humbly  and  smiled  at 
them  like  a  child.  This  continued  for 
two  months.  One  morning  she  did  not 
come  and  was  seen  no  more. 

The  newspapers  reported  the  next  day 
that  the  body  of  a  girl,  name  and  where- 
abouts unknown,  had  been  foimd  dead 
on  the  furthest  end  of  the  pier. 


AN  ARTIST'S  END 

(J^ux  in  Tenebris  Lucet) 


AN  ARTIST'S  END. 


There  are  days,  especially  in  Novem- 
ber, so  dark,  damp,  and  gloomy  that  even 
to  those  endowed  witli  a  good  constitu- 
tion, life  becomes  a  thing  of  utter  weari- 
ness. 

Ever  since  Kamionka  had  begun  to 
feel  ill  and  left  off  working  at  his  statue 
of  charity  this  same  weather  had  op- 
pressed him  more  than  his  physical  ail- 
ment. Morning  after  morning  he  rose 
from  his  couch,  wiped  the  large  studio 
%vindow  and  peered  anxiously  out  to  see 
Vvdiether  there  was  any  change  in  the 
weather;  but  the  same  dreary  vista  met 
his  eyes.  A  leaden  mist  shrouded  the 
earth;  it  did  not  rain,  yet  the  flags  in 
the    court    yard    were    covered   with    a 

greasy  moisture,  everything  was  soaked 
153 


154  An  Artist's  End. 

with  wet,  and  the  large  drops  falling 
from  the  waterspout  seemed  to  beat  time 
to  the  slowly  dragging  hours  of  sadness. 

The  window  of  the  studio  looked  upon 
the  yard  and  garden  beyond.  The  grass 
across  the  railings  still  looked  green  with 
the  sickly  greenness  of  death  and  decay ; 
the  trees  were  stripped  of  all  but  a  few 
yellow  leaves  and  the  black,  dripping 
branches  seen  dimly  through  the  mist 
presented  a  ghost-like  appearance.  The 
rooks  which  had  chosen  them  for  their 
winter  quarters  flapped  their  wings  and 
cawed  loudly  before  settling  down  among 
the  branches. 

On  days  like  these  the  stiidio  looked 
like  a  mortuary.  Marble  and  plaster  of 
Paris  require  light  and  sunny  skies.  In 
the  dim  light  their  whiteness  looked 
mournful,  and  the  darker  terra  albas 
losing  all  distinctness  of  outline,  took 
indescribable,  almost  hideous  shapes. 
Dirt  and  untidiness  added  not  a  little  to 


An  Artist's  End.  155 

tlie  desolation  of  the  place.  Dust  mixed 
with  bits-  of  clay,  and  dirt  carried  in  from 
the  street  covered  the  floor.  The  walls, 
discolored  by  age,  were  bare  except  for  a 
few  casts  of  hands  and  feet;  not  far 
from  the  window  hung  a  small  looking- 
glass  snrmonnted  by  a  horse's  skull,  and 
a  bunch  of  withered  flowers. 

In  one  corner  stood  the  bed  covered 
with  an  old,  crum.pled  counterpane,  near 
it  a  little  table  with  andiron  candlestick. 
Kamionka,  to  save  expense,  lived  and 
slept  in  the  studio.  The  bed  was  usually 
concealed  by  a  screen;  but  now  the 
screen  had  been  removed  so  that  the  sick 
man  might  be  able  to-  watch  the  win- 
dow opposite  for  the  sun  to-  come  out. 
There  was  another  still  larger  window  in 
the  roof,  but  this  was  so  encrusted  with 
dust  and  dirt  that  even  on  bright  days 
it  emitted  but  a  scanty  light. 

It  did  not  clear  up.  After  several  days 
of  gloominess  the  clouds  sunk  lower  yet; 


156  An  Artist's  End. 

the  air  became  more  and  more  saturated 
with  mist  and  it  grew  darker  still.  The 
artist  who  had  lain  down  on  his  bed  fully 
dressed  began  to  feel  worse ;  he  took  ofi 
his  clothes  and  got  up  no  more. 

He  did  not  suffer  from  any  particular 
disease;  he  only  felt  very  tired,  very  sad, 
and  a  general  weakness  seemed  to  numb 
his  limbs.  He  did  not  wish  for  death, 
yet  could  not  summon  energy  enough  to 
live. 

The  long  hours  of  darkness  seemed  to 
him  all  the  longer,  as  he  had  nobody  near 
him.  His  wife  had  died  twenty  years 
before;  his  relations  lived  in  another  part 
of  the  country  and  he  had  no  friends. 
His  acquaintances  had  gradually  desert- 
ed him  because  of  his  increasing  ill  tem- 
per. At  the  beginning  people  had 
smiled  at  his  cantankerous  humors,  but 
when  he  became  more  and  more  of  an 
oddity  and  took  offence  at  the  slightest 
joke,  even  those  that  knew  him  best 
broke  off  all  intercourse. 


An  Artist's  End.  157 

They  also  resented  that  he  had  grown 
pious  with  advancing  years  and  doubted 
his  sincerity.  Malicious  tongues  whis- 
pered that  he  went  to  church  in  order  to 
get  commissions  from  the  priests.  They 
were  wrong.  His  piety  was  not,  perhaps, 
the  outcome  of  a  firm  and  deep-rooted 
conviction,  but  it  was  genuine.  The  only 
thing  said  against  him  founded  upon 
truth  was  his  ever  increasing  miserliness. 
For  many  years  he  had  lived  in  his  studio 
upon  the  scantiest  of  fares,  which  under- 
mined his  constitution  and  gave  his  face 
the  waxlike  hue. 

He  avoided  people,  fearing  they  might 
want  something  from  him.  His  was  a 
warped  nature,  embittered  and  very  un- 
happy. But  for  all  this  his  character  was 
not  a  common  one,  as  even  his  faults  had 
an  artistic  stamp.  Those  who  fancied  he 
hoarded  money  were  wrong.  Kamionka 
was  a  poor  man  because  he  spent  all  his 
money  upon  etchings,  of  which  he  had  a 


158  An  Artist's  End. 

large  collection.  He  looked  at  them  now 
and  then  and  counted  them  with  the 
greed  of  a  miser  gloating  over  his  gold. 
He  kept  this  a  secret  from  everybody, 
perhaps  for  the  very  reason  that  the  fan- 
cy had  sprung  from  a  great  sorrow  and 
deep  feelings. 

A  year  or  two  after  the  death  of  his 
wife  he  had  come  across  an  old  etching, 
the  center  figure  of  which  recalled  to 
him  the  features  of  his  dead  wife.  He 
bought  the  print  and  ever  afterwards 
looked  about  to  find  the  same  likeness  in 
others  and  gradually,  as  the  fancy  got 
hold  of  him,  he  bought  anything  in  the 
same  line  that  pleased  Lis  artistic  eye. 

People  who  have  lost  what  they  held 
most  precious  in  life  are  obliged  to  fill 
up  the  void,  otherwise  they  could  not  ex- 
ist. As  to  Kamionka  nobody  would  have 
thought  that  this  elderly  egoist  had  once 
loved  a  woman  more  than  his  life.  Had 
she  not  died,  his  life  most  likely  would 


An  Artist's  End.  159 

h&ve  been  different,  more  peaceful,  and 
hnman.  As  it  was  this  love  had  outlived 
his  talent,  youth  and  happier  times. 

The  piety  which  gradually  became  a 
regular  custom,  based  upon  the  observa- 
tion of  outward  forms,  had  spnmg  from 
the  same  source.  Kamionka  was  not  one 
of  those  who  clung  to  religious  beliefs; 
he  began  to  pray  after  the  death  of  his 
wife  because  it  seemed  to  him  that  this 
was  the  only  thing  now  he  could  do  for 
her,  the  only  link  which  connected  him 
with  her.  Natures  apparently  cold  and 
impassive  are  often  endowed  vnth  an  in- 
tensity of  feeling  little  suspected  by  their 
sun-oundings.  After  the  death  of  his 
wife  all  Kamionka's  thoughts  twined 
around  her  memory  and  drew  nourish- 
ment from  it  like  the  parasite  plant  from 
the  tree  to  which  it  cling-s;  but  the  hu- 
man mind  cannot  subsist  on  this  kind  of 
nutriment;  it  distorts  it  and  throws  it  off 
its  balance. 


IGO  An  Artist's  End. 

Had  he  not  been  an  artist  lie  conld  not 
have  survived  his  loss :  his  art  saved  him. 
It  is  useless  to  tell  the  survivor  that  it 
matters  nothing  to  the  dead  in  what 
grave  they  rest.  Kamionka  wished  his 
dead  wife  to  have  the  best  he  could  give 
her  and  he  worked  at  her  monument  as 
much  with  his  heart  as  hands.  This 
saved  him  from  madness  and  prevented 
his  giving  way  altogether. 

The  man  remained  warped  and  un- 
happy, but  art  had  saved  the  artist. 
Henceforth  Kamionka  lived  only  for  his 
art. 

Very  few  in  looking  at  pictures  or 
sculptures  give  any  thought  as  to  wheth- 
er the  artist  has  treated  his  subject  hon- 
estly or  otherwise.  Upon  this  point  Kam- 
ionka was  without  reproach.  He  was  not 
a  genius,  and  his  gift  only  a  little  above 
the  average,  therefore  it  could  not  fill  his 
whole  life  or  compensate  him  for  his  loss, 
but  such  as  it  was  he  respected  it  deeply 


An  Artist's  End.  161 

and  was  always  true  to  it.  During  all  his 
life  he  never  insulted  or  wronged  his  art, 
either  for  fame,  lucre,  or  blame.  He 
created  what  h©  felt.  In  those  happy 
times  when  he  lived  like  other  men  he 
used  to  speak  about  art  in  quite  an  un- 
common way  and  when  afterw^ards  peo- 
ple began  to  avoid  him  he  thought  of  it 
in  the  loneliness  of  his  studio  watli  the 
same  reverence  and  honesty. 

Human  beings  in  relation  to  each 
other  have  certain  unwritten  laws  in  vir- 
tue of  which  the  exceptionally  unhappy 
ones  are  condemned  to  solitude  It  is  the 
stone  thrust  out  of  the  riverbed,  ceasing 
to  rub  against  other  stones,  becomes  in- 
crusted  mth  moss,  so  the  human  unit 
separated  from  his  fellows  acquires  faults 
and  oddities. 

Now  when  Kamionka  lay  ill  nobody 

came  to  see  him  except  the  charwoman, 

who  looked  in  twice  a  day  to  fill   li"!s 

samovar  and  prepare  the  tea.      She  ad- 

11 


162  An  Artist's  End. 

vised  to  send  for  the  doctor,  but  he  scout- 
ed the  idea,  being  afraid  of  the  expense. 

At  last  he  grew  very  faint,  perhaps 
because  he  took  no  nourishment  except 
tea.  But  he  had  no  desire  for  anything, 
either  to  eat  or  to  work,  or  to  live.  His 
thoughts  were  as  limp  as  tlie  autumn 
leaves  he  saw  through  the  window,  and 
in  harmony  with  the  mist  and  darkness 
outside.  There  are  no  worsen  moments  in 
human  eixstence  than  when  it  is  brought 
home  to  us  that  all  has  been  don©  there 
was  to  do,  and  that  life  can  give  us  noth- 
ing more.  Kamionka  for  nearly  fifteen 
years  had  lived  in  continual  terror  lest 
his  talent  should  give  out.  Now  he  was 
sure  of  it  and  he  thought  with  bitterness 
that  even  his  art  had  deserted  him.  He 
felt  weary  and  utterly  exhausted.  He 
did  not  expect  to  die  soon,  but  did  not 
believe  he  could  get  better. 

Altogether  there  was  not  a  spark  of 
hope  in  him. 


An  Artist's  End.  103 

If  he  wished  for  anything  it  "vrere  for 
the  snn  to  come  ont  and  shine  through 
the  window.  He  thought  that  might  re- 
vive him  a  little.  He  had  always  been 
sensitive  to  the  changes  of  weather,  and 
rain  or  darkness,  always  influenced  his 
spirit,  and  now  this  hopeless  weather,  as 
he  called  it,  had  come  when  he  lay  pros- 
trated on  his  bed. 

Every  morning  when  the  woman  came 
with  his  tea  Kamionka  asked : 

"How  does  it  look  outside?  Do  you 
think  it  is  clearing  up?" 

"Ah,  no,"  answered  the  woman, 
"there  is  such  a  mist  that  one  cannot  see 
anybody  within  a  yard." 

The  sick  man  hearing  this  shut  his 
eyes  wearily  and  remained  motionless  for 
hours. 

In  the  courtyard  everything  was  silent 
but  for  the  slow  continual  drip  of  the 
waterspout. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  it 


164  An  Artist's  End. 

grew  so  dark  that  Kamionka  had  to  light 
the  candle.  This,  being  so  weak,  cost 
him  no  little  trouble.  Before  stetching 
out  his  hand  for  tlie  matches  he  thought 
it  over,  then  raised  his  arm,  the  thinness 
of  which  showing  through  the  night 
dress  offended  his  artistic  taste;  after  he 
had  lit  the  candle,  he  fell  back  again, 
and  remained  motionless,  listening  with 
closed  eyes  to  the  monotonous  drip  of  the 
water,  until  the  charwoman  came  in  for 
the  second  time. 

The  studio  presented  a  strange  sight. 
The  flame  of  the  candle  lit  up  the  bed 
and  the  artist  lying  upon  it,  and  concen- 
trated itself  in  one  luminous  point  on  the 
forehead,  which  looked  like  old  polished 
ivory.  The  remainder  of  the  room  lay 
in  deep  shadow,  which  increased  and 
thickened  gradually.  But  in  proportion 
as  the  darkness  increased  the  statues 
seemed  to  grow  more  lifelike.  The  flam\3 
of  the  candle  rose  and  fell,  and  in  the 


An  Artist's  End.  165 

flickering  lights  they  too  seemed  to  move 
and  stand  on  tip-toe  to  look  at  the 
emaciated  frame  of  the  sculptor,  curious 
to  know  whether  their  creator  were  still 
among  the  living. 

And  truly  there  was  in  that  face  a 
certain  rigidity  of  death.  But  from  time 
to  time  the  pale  lips  moved  as  if  in 
prayer,  or  maybe  silently  complained  of 
his  loneliness,  and  the  everlasting  drip 
from  the  waterspout,  which  always  with 
the  same  precision,  seemed  to  measure 
the  time  of  his  illness. 

One  evening  the  charwoman  came  in 
smelling  strongly  of  alcohol,  therefore 
more  than  usually  loquacious,  and  said: 

"There  is  so  much  work  on  my  hands 
that  I  can  only  just  manage  to  look  in 
twice  a  day.  Why  not  send  for  a  sister 
of  mercy?  They  do  not  cost  anything, 
and  it  would  be  more  comfortable  for 
you." 

The  idea  pleased  Kamionka,  but  like 


166  An  Artist's  End. 

most  queer  tempered  people,  he  liked  to 
oppose  what  anybody  advised  him,  he 
therefore  refused. 

After  the  woman  had  gone  he  began, 
to  turn  it  over  in  his  mind.  A  sister  of 
mercy!  It  was  true  they  did  not  take 
money  and  what  help  and  comfort  she 
would  have  been  to  him!  Kamionka, 
like  other  sick  people  left  to  themselves, 
had  to  bear  various  discomforts  and 
small  miseries  which  hurt  him  as  much 
as  they  irritated  him.  Sometimes  his 
head  was  lying  in  an  uncomfortable  posi- 
tion for  hours  and  he  could  not  summon 
energy  enough  to  rearrange  the  pillows ; 
then  at  nights  he  often  felt  chilly  and 
would  have  given  anything  for  some  hot 
tea,  but  if  the  lighting  of  the  candle 
caused  him  difficulty  how  could  he  think 
of  boiling  the  water?  A  sister  of  mercy 
would  do  all  that  for  him  mth  the  ut- 
most cheerfulness.  How  much  easier  it 
would  be  to  bear  illness  vriih  somebody 
to  help  him. 


An  Artist's  End.  167 

The  poor  man  worked  himself  up  to 
that  extent  that  it  appeared  to  him  even 
illness  under  such  conditions  were  some- 
thing almost  desirable  and  wondered  in- 
wardly that  all  this  lay  within  his  reach. 

The  thought  also  that  if  the  sister 
came  the  studio  would  look  more  cheer- 
ful, even  the  clouds  might  lift  and  the 
unceasing  drip  of  the  waterspout  cease  to 
haunt  him. 

Then  he  began  to  regret  that  he  had 
not  agreed  at  once  to  the  woman's  pro- 
posal. The  long,  gloomy  night  was  be- 
fore him  and  he  could  not  see  her  till 
next  morning.  It  dawned  upon  him  that 
this  night  of  all  otliers  would  bei  the  long- 
est and  the  heaviest  to  bear. 

Thoughts  flitted  through  his  brain  of 
what  an  utter  outcast  he  was  and  he  be- 
gan to  compare  his  former  life  with  what 
it  now  was.  And  as  the  thought  of  the 
sister,  so  now  the  days  past  and  gone, 
seemed  to  be  closely  allied  with  sunshine 
and  liriffht  skies. 


168  An  Artist's  End. 

He  began  tliinking  of  his  dead  wife 
and  to  pour  out  all  his  grief  and  sorrow 
to  her  as  he  always  did  when  he  felt  very 
miserable.  At  last  he  grew  tired  and  fell 
asleep. 

The  candle  on  the  little  table  burned 
down.  The  flame  changed  from  pink 
into  a  bluish  hue,  then  flickered  up  once 
and  twice  and  went  out.  The  studio  was 
now  wrapped  up  in  utter  darkness. 

In  the  meantime  outdoors  the  drops  of 
water  fell  one  by  one  as  if  all  the  sadness 
and  gloom  were  filtering  slowly  through 
nature's  bosom. 

Kamionka  slept  long  and  peacefully, 
when  suddenly  he  woke  up  under  the 
impression  that  something  unusual  was 
taking  place  in  the  studio.  It  was  to- 
wards daybreak.  The  marble  statues  and 
plaster  of  paris  casts  began  to  whiten.  A 
pale  light  shone  through  the  window  op- 
posite. By  this  light  Kamionka  saw 
somebody  sitting  near  his  bed. 


An  Artist's  End.  169 

He  opened  his  eyes  very  ^vide  and 
looked.   It  was  a  sister  of  mercy. 

She  sat  quite  motionless,  a  little 
turned  towards  the  window,  with  her 
head  bent  doAvn.  Her  hands  were  crossed 
on  her  knees — she  seemed  to  pray.  The 
sick  man  could  not  see  her  face,  but  he 
saw  distinctly  the  white  coif  and  the 
dark  outline  of  the  somewhat  thin 
shoulders. 

His  heart  began  to  beat  a  little  anx- 
iously and  the  question  rose  in  his  mind : 

''When  could  the  char^voman  have 
fetched  the  sister,  and  how  did  she  come 
in?" 

Presently  he  thought  it  must  be  the 
fancy  of  a  weakened  brain  and  he  shut 
his  eyes.  After  a  few  moments  he 
opened  them  again. 

The  sister  was  still  sitting  in  the  same 
place,  motionless  as  if  absorbed  in  pray- 
ers. 

A  strange  feeling,  partly  of  joy  and 


170  An  Artist's  End. 

partly  of  fear  made  his  hair  rise.  Some- 
thing incomprehensible  seemed  to  draw 
him  towards  that  silent  figure.  He  fan- 
cied to  have  seen  her  before- — but  where 
and  when  he  could  not  remember.  He 
felt  a  great  longing  to  see  tlie  face  hid- 
den under  the  white  coif.  Kamionka, 
without  understanding  it  himself,  dared 
neither  move  or  speak;  he  scarcely  dared 
to  breathe.  He  only  felt  that  fear  and 
joy  possessed  his  whole  being  and  asked 
himself  wonderingly:  What  does  it 
mean? 

It  had  grown  quite  light  now.  "What 
a  wonderful  morning  it  must  be  out- 
doors he  thought.  Suddenly,  without 
any  transition,  a  great  flood  of  light  came 
in  through  the  wudow,  a  light  as  strong 
and  radiant  as  comes  in  the  month  of 
May.  Waves  of  golden  sunshine  seemed 
to  pour  in  and  fill  the  room,  the  statues 
and  marbles  disappeared  %vithin,  the  very 
walls  seemed  absorbed  by  it — and  Ka- 


An  Artist's  End.  171 

mionka  found  liims;.lf  in  a  lighted  end- 
less space. 

He  looked  at  the  sister,  the  white  coif, 
which  concealed  her  features,  seemed  to 
shake  with  a  sudden  tremor,  and  the 
glorious  light  touched  the  bent  head. 

She  turned  it  slowly  towards  the  sick 
man  and  suddenly  the  deserted  outcast 
saAV  as  in  a  glory  the  well-known  features 
of  his  beloved  vdie. 

He  rose  fi-om  his  bed,  and  from  his 
breast  came  a  cry,  which  spoke  of  years 
of  bitterness,  tears,  and  sorrow: 
•'Lozia!   Lozia!" 

And  taking  hold  of  her  he  pressed  her 
to  his  heart  and  she  threw  both  arms 
around  his  neck. 

The  light  grew  stronger  and  stronger. 
"You  remained  true  to  me,"  she  said 
at  last,  "therefore  I  came  and  prayed 
that  death  might  deal  gently  by  you." 

Kamionka  was  still  holding  her  in  his 
arms  for  fear  the  holy  vision  might  dis- 


172  An  Artist's  End. 

appear  together  with  the  light.  "I  am 
ready  to  die,"  he  said,  "if  only  I  could 
keep  you  with  me." 

A  smile  of  exceeding  sweetness  lit  up 
her  face  and  taking  one  hand  from 
around  his  neck  she  pointed  down  and 
said: 

"You  are  dead;  look  there!" 
Kamionka's  eyes  followed  the  direc- 
tion of  her  hand  and  there  below,  under 
his  feet,  he  looked  through  the  skylight 
into  the  dim  lonely  studio;  there  on  the 
bed  lay  his  body,  the  wide-open  mouth 
forming  a  decavity  on  the  yellow  waxen 
face.  He  looked  upon  the  emaciated 
form  as  upon  a  strange  thing.  He  soon 
lost  sight  of  it  altogether,  because  the 
wave  of  light,  as  if  moved  by  a  breeze 
from  other  worlds,  carried  them  higher 
and  higher  into  space. 


A  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS 

A  Sketch  of  American  Life 


A  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 

Five  or  six  years  ago  it  happened  that 
oil  was  discovered  somewhere  in  the 
county  of  Mariposa,  in  California.  The 
enormous  profits  derived  from  oil  in 
Nevada  and  other  states,  speedily 
brought  speculators  to  the  spot,  who 
formed  a  company  and  brought  out 
pumps,  barrels  of  all  sizes  and  dimen- 
sions, and  all  the  machinery  necessary 
for  sinking  wells.  Some  fifty  houses 
were  erected  for  the  workmen,  the  place 
named  "Struck  Oil,"  and  shortly,  as  if 
by  magic,  a  settlement  sprung  into  life 
where  formerly  had  been  a  barren  wil- 
derness, inhabited  only  by  coyotes. 

Two  years  later  Struck  Oil  became  a 

city,  and  was  a  city  in  the  full  meaning 

of  the  word.    Please  to  note:    There  was 

already  a  shoemaker,  a  tailor,  a  carpen- 

175 


176  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

ter,  a  blacksmith,  a  butcher,  and  a  doc- 
tor. The  latter  a  Frenchman,  who  in 
bygone  times  had  shaved  beards  in 
Trance,  but  nevertheless  had  some  surgi- 
cal knowledge  and  was  harmless,  which 
in  an  American  doctor  means  a  great 
deal. 

The  doctors,  as  is  often  the  case  in  a 
small  town,  had  an  apothecary's  shop. 
He  was  also  postmaster,  and  had,  there- 
fore, three  strings  to  his  bow. 

As  an  apothecar}^  he  was  equally 
harmless,  as  his  whole  stock  consisted 
in  colored  syrups  and  Leroy.  This  quiet 
and  gentle  old  man  would  say  to  his 
patients : 

"Do  not  be  afraid  of  my  physic.  I 
take  a  dose  myself  every  time  I  prescribe 
to  a  patient,  and  if  it  does  not  hurt  a 
healthy  man,  it  is  sure  not  to  harm  a 
sick  one.    Now  don't  you  think  so?" 

"That's  true,"  replied  the  satisfied  pa- 
tients.    It  never  occurred  to  them  that 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  17  7 

it  was  the  doctor's  dut}'  not  only  not  to 
injure  a  patient,  but  to  help  him. 

Monsieur  Dasonville,  tliat  was  the  doc- 
tor's name,  was  a  staunch  believer  in  the 
marv'ellous  effects  of  leroy.  Frequently 
at  public  meetings  he  would  bare  his 
head  and  turn  to  his  audience  with  these 
words : 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  you  see  in  me 
the  happy  effects  of  leroy.  I  am  seventy 
years  old,  and  during  forty  years  of  my 
life,  I  have  never  failed  to  take  a  daily 
dose,  and  behold,  I  have  not  a  single  grey 
hair  on  my  head." 

He  had  no  grey  hair,  that  was  true 
enough ;  but  then  it  might  have  been  re- 
marked that  he  had  none  at  all,  as  his 
head  was  as  smooth  as  a  billiard  ball; 
but  as  this  had  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  development  of  the  city,  the 
doctor's  speech  remained  unchallenged. 

In  the  meanwhile  Struck  Oil  City 
grew  larger  and  larger.  PresenJy  a 
12 


178  A  Camedy  of  Errors. 

railway  branch  was  established  to  con- 
nect the  city  with  the  world  in  general; 
and  its  officials  decided  upon.  The  doc- 
tor as  a  representative  of  learning,  a  man 
universally  liked  and  respected,  was 
chosen  as  judge;  the  shoemaker,  Mr. 
Davis,  a  Polish  Jew,  became  the  head  of 
the  police  force,  which  consisted  of  the 
sherifi  and  nobody  else;  a  school  was 
built,  and  its  management  entrusted  to  a 
schoolma'am,  specially  imported,  an  an- 
cient spinster  with  a  chronic  faceache; 
and  last,  but  not  least,  there  rose  the 
first  hotel  under  the  name  of  the  United 
States  Hotel. 

Business  flourished.  The  exportation 
of  oil  brought  immense  profits. 

Mr.  Davis  erected  a  bay-window  be- 
fore his  shop  in  imitation  of  those  in 
'Frisco.'  At  the  next  meeting  the  citi- 
zens offered  him  a  vote  of  thanks  for 
having  embellished  the  city;  upon  which 
the  sheriff,  with  the  proud  humility  of  a 
great  man,  said : 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  179 

"Thank  yoii!  oh,  thank  yon!" 
Where  there  is  a  judge  and  a  sheriff 
there  are  likely  to  be  lawsuits.  This 
called  for  wTiting  matei-ial;  therefore,  at 
the  corner  of  Coyote  and  First  streets  a 
stationer  established  himself,  who  sold 
also  newspapers  and  political  caricatures, 
representing  General  Grant  as  a  boy 
milking  a  cow;  the  United  States.  It 
was  not  the  sheriff's  duty  to  prohibit  the 
sale  of  caricatures,  as  the  police  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that. 

What  would  an  American  town  be 
without  a  newspaper?  At  the  end  of  the 
second  year  a  paper  under  the  title  of 
the  "Saturday  Weekly  Review,"  made 
its  appearance  and  had  as  many  subscrib- 
ers as  there  were  people  in  the  city.  The 
editor  of  the  paper  was  at  the  same  time 
sub-editor,  printer  and  distributor.  The 
last  duty  did  not  cause  him  any  incon- 
venience, as  he  kept  a  dairy  and  person- 
ally  supplied   the    citizens   with    milk. 


180  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

These  humble  duties  did  not  prevent  him 
from  beginning  his  political  articles 
something  after  this  fashion:  "If  our 
benighted  President  had  followed  the  ad- 
vice given  him  in  our  last  issue,"  etc., 
etc. 

It  is  seen,  therefore,  that  not  a  single 
blessing  was  lacking  in  Struck  Oil  City. 
The  sheriff's  duties  v/ere  not  heavy,  as 
the  miners  working  the  oil-wells  had 
none  of  the  violent  and  rowdy  spirit  of 
the  gold-diggers;  and  things  were  gen- 
erally pretty  quiet.  ISTobody  fought  any- 
body, lynch-law  was  unknown,  and  the 
days  flowed  peacefully,  one  exactly  like 
the  other.  The  first  half  of  the  day  was 
devoted  to  business,  and  in  the  evening 
when  there  were  no  meetings,  the  citi- 
zens burnt  rubbish  in  the  street,  and 
then  went  to  bed;  in  the  blissful  con- 
sciousness that  they  would  do  the  same 
thing  the  day  following. 

The  sheriff's  only  trouble  was  that  he 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  181 

could  not  prevail  upon  the  citizens  not 
to  fire  at  the  wild  geese  which  at  sunset 
were  seen  flying  over  the  city.  The  law 
prohibits  using  fireamis  in  public  thor- 
oughfares. ''If  it  were  a  scurv^y  little 
town,"  remarked  the  sheriff,  "1  wouldn't 
say  anything  against  the  practice,  but  in 
a  respectable  city  to  go  on  bang!  bang- 
ing in  the  streets,  is,  to  say  the  least,  un- 
becoming." 

The  citizens  listened  deferentially  to 
his  speech,  nodded  their  heads,  and  said : 
"Yes,  yes,"  but  when  the  evening  came 
and  on  the  rosy  sky  appeared  the  long 
grey  line  of  the  birds  flying  towards  the 
ocean,  everybody  forgot  his  promise, 
grasped  the  rifle,  and  the  shooting  began 
as  merrily  as  ever. 

Mr.  Davis  might  have  brought  the  cul- 
prits before  the  judge  to  be  fined  heav- 
ily, but  we  must  not  forget  that  the  of- 
fenders were  the  judge's  patients  in  case 
of  sickness,  and  which  ha]>pened  of  tener, 


182  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

the  sheriff's  customers  when  their  boots 
wore  out.  and  as  one  hand  washes  the 
other,  it  is  not  likely  one  hand  would 
hurt  the  other.  Peace  and  quietness 
reigned  therefore  in  Struck  Oil  City, 
when  suddenly  that  delightful  state  of 
things  came  to  an  end. 

Two  storekeepers  had  risen  against 
each  other  in  mortal  feud.  In  the  stores 
was  everything  which  mortal  man  or 
woman  can  want  or  desire:  hats,  cigars, 
paper-collars,  shirts,  blouses,  and  all 
sorts  of  gToceries.  In  the  beginning 
there  was  but  one  store,  kept  by  Hans 
Kasche,  a  phlegmatic  German  from 
Prussia.  He  was  about  thirty-five  years 
old,  not  exactly  fat,  but  round  and  com- 
fortable looking.  He  always  walked 
about  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  never  part- 
ed company  with  his  pipe.  Ho  knew 
enough  English  for  his  business,  and  no 
more;  but  to  the  latter  he  attended  so 
diligently,  that  after  a  year  it  was  said 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  183 

by  tiiose  wlio  knew  that  he  was  -.vorth 
several  thousand  dollars. 

Suddenly  a  second  store  made  its  ap- 
pearance opposite  Hans  Kasche. 

By  a  singular  chance  the  rival  estab- 
lishment was  also  kept  by  a  German,  a 
Miss  J^euman,  or,  as  she  styled  herself, 
!N'ewman.  The  two  dealei-s  looked  as- 
kance at  each  other  from  the  beginning, 
but  open  hostilities  did  not  break  out 
until  Miss  JSTeuman  gave  an  ''Opening" 
luncheon,  and  the  cakes  there  served 
were  found  to  be  baked  from  flour  adul- 
terated with  soda  and  alum.  She  would 
have  compromised  herself  in  public  opin- 
ion had  she  not  declared  that  the  flour 
had  been  purchased  at  Hans  Kasche's; 
her  own  not  being  yet  unpacked.  It  be- 
came evident  that  Hans  must  be  a  rascal, 
who,  devoured  by  envy,  had  tried  to  ruin 
his  rival  at  the  very  outset.  Everybody 
anticipated  skirmishes  between  the  two, 
but  did  not  foresee  that  so  much  personal 


184  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

animosity  would  be  mixed  up  with  it. 
It  was  commented  upon  by  the  citizens 
that  Hans  never  burned  his  rubbish,  but 
when  the  wind  blew  in  the  direction  of 
his  rival's  store.  Miss  iN'euman  never 
spoke  of  Hans  but  as  the  "Dutchman," 
which  gave  mortal  offence. 

In  the  beginning  the  citizens  made 
fun  of  both  parties,  especially  as  neither 
of  them  spoke  English;  but  gradually, 
from  their  daily  relations  with  the  gro- 
cers two  parties  began  to  form  them- 
selves in  the  city,  the  IS^eumanites  and 
the  Hansimists,  who  looked  askance  at 
each  other,  which  undermined  the  gen- 
eral harmony  and  threatened  the  city 
with  dire  complications.  The  diplomatic 
sheriif  tried  in  vain  to  stem  the  torrent 
at  its  source  and  to  conciliate  the  two 
Germans.  He  was  often  seen  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  street  addressing 
them  in  their  native  tongue: 

"Come  now,  why  should  you  quarrel? 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  185 

Don't  you  buy  your  boots  in  the  same 
establishment?  I  have  got  just  now  such 
a  lovely  assortment,  none  better  to  be 
found  in  San  Francisco." 

"What  is  the  use  of  recommending 
your  boots  to  people  who  will  have  to  do 
without  them  before  long?"  inteiTupted 
the  lady,  acrimoniously. 

"I  do  not  attract  customers  by  my 
feet,"  replied  phlegmatic  Hans. 

ISTow  Miss  ISTeuman,  though  a  Ger- 
man, had  beautiful  feet,  and  this  covert 
sneer  filled  her  with  wrath  unspeakable. 

At  the  meetings,  the  affairs  of  the  two 
rival  dealers  begin  to  evoke  discussion 
and,  as  in  America,  in  the  case  of  a  wom- 
an, justice  is  doubly  blindfolded,  there- 
fore the  majority  leaned  towards  Miss 
jSTeuman. 

Presently  Hans  became  aware  that  his 
customers  began  to  fall  off.  Miss  'Neii- 
man  likewise  thought  her  business  did 
not  go  on  as  well  as  it  ought  to.     The 


186  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

fact  was  all  the  women  stood  by  Hans. 
They  remarked  that  their  husbands  fre- 
quented the  lady's  store  too  much  and 
lingered  too  long  over  their  purchases. 

When  no  customers  were  to  be  served 
in  either  store,  Hans  and  Miss  l^euman 
stood  in  their  doors  casting  at  each  other 
looks  of  scorn  and  hatred.  Miss  Neu- 
man  often  sung  a  ditty  to  the  tune  of 
"Mein  lieber  Augustin." 

"Dutchman!  Dutchman,  oh  Du-Du- 
Dutchman!" 

Hans  looked  at  her  feet,  then  at  her 
figure,  his  eyes  slowly  travelling  up- 
wards to  her  face  with  an  expression  as 
if  he  were  examining  a  dead  coyote; 
then  burst  into  demoniacal  laughter, 
saying: 

"Mein  Gott!" 

The  hatred  in  this  phlegmatic  man 
had  now  developed  to  such  an  extent 
that  when  he  stood  before  his  door  and 
did  not  see  his  rival  he  felt  uncomfort- 
able. 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  187 

More  overt  hostilities  would  have 
broken  out  before  this  had  not  Hans 
been  sure  that  he  would  get  the  worst 
of  any  public  exposure,  as  Miss  Neuman 
liad  the  editor  of  the  "Weekly  Review" 
on  her  side.  He  had  become  aware  of 
this  after  he  had  circulated  the  news 
that  Miss  J^euman  had  a  made  up  figure. 
A  slashing  article  appeared  in  the  paper 
pointing  out  the  slandering  propensities 
of  the  Gennans  in  general,  and  wound 
up  with  an  assurance  that  being  well- 
informed  he  considered  it  his  duty  to  in- 
form his  readers  that  the  figure  of  a  cer- 
tain calumniated  lady  was  nature's  han- 
diwork. 

From  this  day  forth  Hans  took  his 
coffee  without  milk,  whereas  Miss  'New- 
man  i;ook  double  the  amount.  She  also 
had  herself  measured  for  a  tailor-made 
dress,  which  decisively  convinced  every- 
body that  Hans  was  a  slanderer. 

In  presence  of  female  cunning  Hans 


188  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

felt  himself  at  his  wits  end,  and  there  in 
the  open  door  stood  the  fair  enemy  sing- 
ing her  ditty  about  the  ^'Dutchman." 

"What  can  I  do  to  her?"  thought 
Hans  vindictively.  "I  have  some  wheat 
poisoned  for  rats,  if  I  poisoned  her  poul- 
try? No,  they  would  make  me  pay  for 
it.     I  know  what  I  will  do." 

In  the  evening  Miss  I^euman  perceiv- 
ed with  astonishment  that  Hans  was  car- 
rying armfuUs  of  ^vild  sunflower  stalks 
up  to  his  cellar  wdndow.  "I  should  like 
to  know  what  he  is  up  to  now,  it's  sure 
to  be  something  against  me!" 

It  had  now  grown  almost  dark,  but  she 
could  still  see  Hans  spreading  the  stalks 
in  two  lines,  leaving  a  little  path  free 
towards  the  cellar  window;  he  then 
brought  something  carefully  wrapped  up 
in  a  cloth,  he  turned  his  back  to  where 
Miss  ISTeuman  was  watching  him,  took 
the  cloth  from  the  mysterious  object, 
placed  it  tenderly  on  the  ground  and 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  189 

covered  it  with  (ky  leaves;  then  ap- 
proached the  wall  and  began  writing 
upon  it. 

Miss  Neiiman  was  quivering  with  ex- 
citement. 

''He  is  writing  something  spiteful 
against  me/'  she  thought.  "I  shall  see 
what  it  is  as  soon  as  everybody  is  in 
bed,  if  it  cost  me  my  life." 

"\Mien  Hans  had  finished  his  work  he 
went  leisurely  into  his  house  and  soon 
afterwards  extinguished  the  light.  Then 
Miss  Keuman  hastily  donned  her  wrap- 
per, thrust  her  bare  feet  into  slippers, 
and  went  into  the  street.  "WTien  she 
came  to  the  sunflowers,  she  went  straight 
across  the  little  footpath  up  to  the  win- 
dow in  order  to  see  the  inscription  on 
the  wall.  Suddenly  her  eyes  opened 
"wide  in  terror,  the  upper  part  of  her 
body  swayed  backwards  and  an  agoniz- 
ing cry  burst  from  her  lips: 

"Help!  help!" 


190  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

A  sash  in  the  upper  story  was  lifted 
gently. 

"Was  is  das?"  said  the  even  voice  of 
Hans.     "Was  is  das?" 

"Cursed  Dutchman,"  screamed  the 
lady,  "you  have  killed  me,  murdered 
me.  To-morrow  you  will  be  hung. 
Help!  help!" 

"I  am  coming  directly,"  said  Hans. 

Presently  he  appeared  with  a  lighted 
candle.  He  looked  at  Miss  ISTeuman, 
who  seemed  rooted  to  the  spot;  then  he 
put  his  arms  akimbo,  and  burst  into  a 
shout  of  meri'v  laughter. 

"Ho!  ho!  ho!  It's  Miss  ]^euman! 
Ho!  ho!  ho!  Good  evening,  Miss.  I 
set  a  trap  for  skunks  and  caught  a  young 
lady.  What  were  you  doing  at  my  cel- 
lar window?  I  wrote  a  warning  on  the 
wall  to  prevent  people  coming  near  it. 
Scream  away;  let  people  come  and  see 
that  you  come  at  nights  to  look  into  the 
Dutchman's  cellar  window.      Oh,  mein 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  191 

Gott!  scream  as  loud  as  you  can,  bnt 
you  will  have  to  remain  where  you  are 
till  morning.  Good  night,  Miss  Neu- 
man,  good  night!" 

Miss  N'euman's  position  was  dreadful. 
If  she  kept  on  screaming  people  would 
collect  and  see  her  thus;  what  a  scandal! 
If  she  did  not  scream  she  would  have  to 
stop  here  all  night  and  be  seen  by  people 
next  morning,  and  beside  her  foot  was 
becoming  very  painful.  Her  head  began 
to  swim,  the  stars  seemed  to  melt  one 
into  the  other,  the  moon  showed  the 
fiendish  countenance  of  Herr  Hans.  She 
fainted. 

"Herr  Je!"  ejaculated  Hans  to  him- 
self, "suppose  she  dies?  They  would 
lynch  me  without  trial!" 

And  his  hair  stood  on  end  with  sudden 
terror.  He  searched  for  the  key  of  the 
trap,  but  it  was  not  easy  to  unlock  it,  as 
Miss  ISTeuman's  wrapper  was  in  the  way. 
He  had  to  jjush  it  aside  and    ...    in 


192  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

spite  of  liis  hatred  and  terror  lie  could 
not  help  looking  admiringly  at  the  little 
marble  feet,  visible  now  in  the  reddish 
light  of  the  moon. 

He  unlocked  the  trap  quickly,  and  as 
the  lady  gave  no  sign  of  returning  con- 
sciousness he  lifted  her  in  his  strong  arms 
and  carried  her  across  the  street  into  her 
own  house.  During  the  short  transit  his 
hatred  and  aversion  seemed  to  have  van- 
ished into  space  and  the  only  feeling 
he  was  conscious  of  possessing  was  a  gen- 
tle pity  and  compassion  for  his  helpless 
enemy.  He  returned  to  his  house,  and 
tossed  restlessly  on  his  bed  all  night. 
Something  had  disturbed  phlegmatic 
Hans'  equanimity. 

The  next  morning  Miss  Neuman  did 
not  appear  in  the  doorway,  and  did  not 
sing  about  the  "Dutchman."  Maybe 
she  felt  ashamed  or  maybe  she  was  si- 
lently plotting  her  revenge. 

The  sequel  showed  that  it  was  the 


A  Comedy  of  Eito.i-s.  193 

latter.  That  same  evening-  the  editor 
of  the  "Weekly  Review"  challenged 
Hans  to  fight,  and  began  by  giving  him 
a  black  eye.  But  Hans'  blood  was  up 
and  he  began  to  use  his  fists  so  vigorous- 
ly that  the  editor  was  thrown  full  length 
on  the  ground  and  cried  out:  "Enough! 
Enough!" 

Nobody  knew^  how  it  happened,  it  was 
not  through  Hans  that  the  whole  town 
came  to  know  of  Miss  jSTeuman's  noctur- 
nal adventure.  After  the  fight  with  the 
editor,  all  softer  feelings  vanished  from 
Hans  Kasche's  heart,  and  he  hated  his 
rival  as  cordially  as  ever. 

He  had  a  foreboding  that  the  inimical 
hand  was  preparing  new  blows,  and  he 
had  not  long  to  wait  for  it  either.  Ameri- 
cans use  ice  largely  and  Hans  always 
kept  a  good  supply  of  it  in  his  cellar. 
Gradually  he  became  aware  that  nobody 
applied  for  ice  to  him  any  longer.  The 
huge  slabs  he  had  brought  by  railroad 
13 


194  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

were  melting  down  and  lie  was  already 
some  fifteen  dollars  out  of  pocket.  How 
was  it?  He  saw  his  own  partisans  buy- 
ing it  in  the  opposite  stores.  He  could 
not  make  out  what  it  meant,  but  resolved 
to  find  out  the  reason.  The  saloon-keep- 
er, Peters,  passed  his  door. 

"Why  do  you  not  take  your  ice  from 
me  any  longer?"  he  asked. 

"Because  you  have  not  got  any,"  re- 
plied Peters. 

"Aherl  I  keep  ice  always,"  said  Hans. 

"And  what's  that  for?"  asked  the  sa- 
loon-keeper, pointing  to  a  notice  stuck 
up  on  the  wall. 

Hans  looked,  and  turned  green  with 
rage.  In  the  word  "Notice"  the  t  had 
been  carefully  erased  and  read  "No  ice." 

"Donnerwetter!"  shouted  Hans,  and 
with  livid  face  and  trembling  limbs  he 
rushed  into  Miss  Neuman's  store. 

"That's  a  rascally  business,"  he  shout- 
ed with  foaming  mouth.  "Why  did  you 
scratch  out  that  letter.  Miss?" 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  195 

*-Vrhat  did  you  gay  I  scratched  out?" 
a^ked  Miss  Neuman  innocently. 

"Tlie  letter  t  I  say.  You  scratched 
out  the  t,  but  donnerwetter,  this  must  be 
ended,  yoii  will  have  to  pay  me  for  the 
ice." 

Poor  Hans  had  lost  his  usual  compo- 
sure and  danced  and  shouted  about  the 
place  like  one  bereft  of  his  senses.  Miss 
Neuman  began  to  scream  and  people 
rushed  into  the  store. 

"Help!  help!"  she  called  out.  "The 
Dutchman  is  gone  mad !  He  says  I  have 
scratched  something  out.  What  should 
I  scratch  out  unless  it  were  his  eyes,  if  he 
goes  on  like  that.  I  am  a  poor,  lonely 
woman ;  he  means  to  kill  me,  to  murder 
me." 

Saying  this  she  broke  out  in  tears. 
The  people  did  not  understand  what  it 
was  all  about;  but  they  could  not  stand 
by  and  see  a  woman  shed  teai*s;  they 
therefore  took  th*^  German  by  the  serulf 


196  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

of  the  neck  snd  tried  to  evict  liim.  Hans 
resisted  valiantly,  but  in  vain;  out  he 
had  to  go,  and  out  he  went  flying  across 
the  street  into  his  own  store,  where  he 
fell  headlong  on  the  ground. 

A  week  later  a  painted  signboard  ap- 
peared above  his  store.  It  represented 
a  monkey  dressed  in  a  striped  gown, 
white  apron  and  bib,  a  dress  exactly  like 
that  Miss  ISTeuman  used  to  wear.  Un- 
derneath was  the  inscription: 

"Stores  at  the  sign  of  the  monkey." 

People  collected  before  the  store. 
Their  merriment  brought  Miss  ISTeuman 
into  the  street.  She  looked  at  the  sign- 
board and  changed  color,  but  with  great 
presence  of  mind  she  called  out  at  once: 

"A  very  appropriate  sign  for  Herr 
Kasche!" 

But  all  the  same  the  blow  had  struck 
home.  At  noon  when  the  children,  com- 
ing from  school,  stopped  before  the  pic- 
ture, she  had  te  listen  to  their  mocking 
comments: 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  197 

''Ob,  that's  Miss  Neuman!  Good 
morning,  Miss  Neuman!" 

This  was  too  much.  When  the  editor 
came  with  the  milk,  she  said : 

"The  monkey  is  meant  for  me.  I 
know  it's  me,  and  I  shall  never  forgive 
him  for  the  insult.  He  shall  be  forced 
to  take  it  down  and  lick  it  off  with  his 
tongue  in  my  presence!" 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  about  it, 
Miss?" 

'T  will  go  to  the  judge.^' 

"Now?" 

"To-mon-ow." 

The  next  morning  on  leaving  the 
store  she  approached  Hans. 

"Listen,  Herr  Dutchman,  I  know  that 
monkey  is  meant  for  me.  You  come 
with  me  to  the  judge  and  we  will  see 
what  he  says  about  it?" 

"He  will  say  that  anybody  has  the 
right  to  hang  out  a  signboard." 

"V.' e'll  soon  see  about  that." 


19<S  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

Miss  Xeuman  could  scarcely  breathe. 

"And  how  do  you  know  it  was  meant 
for  you,  Miss?" 

"My  conscience  tells  me.  Come  at 
once  to  the  judge,  unless  you  wish  the 
sheriff  to  bring  you  there  in  handcuffs." 

"Very  well,  I  will  go,"  said  Hans, 
who  felt  sure  the  judge  could  do  noth- 
ing to  him. 

They  locked  their  stores  and  departed 
— abusing  each  other  heartily  on  the 
way. 

At  the  very  door  of  Monsieur  Dason- 
vilie  they  remembered  that  they  did  not 
know  English  sufficiently  well  to  explain 
the  case.  No,  it  wouldn't  do,  they  must 
fii-st  go  to  the  sheriff.  The  sheriff  was 
sitting  on  his  wagon  ready  to  start  off 
on  a  journey. 

"Go  to  the  devil!"  he  exclaimed 
quickly.  "You  two  disturb  the  whole 
town,  and  your  boots  last  you  out  the 
whole  summer.  I  am  going  to  fetch 
lumber.     Good  bye!" 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  199 

And  off  lie  went  at  a  brisk  trot. 

Hans  put  liis  arms  akimbo. 

"You  will  have  to  wait  till  to-mor- 
row, Miss,"  he  said,  phlegmatically. 

"I  shall  not  wait!  I  would  rather  die 
— unless  you  take  down  your  sign- 
board." 

"I  will  not  take  it  down,  Miss." 

"Then  you  will  swing  for  it!  You 
will  be  hanged,  Dutchman." 

"We  can  do  without  the  sheriff.  The 
judge  knows  all  about  the  matter  with- 
out our  telling  him." 

Miss  Neuman  was  wrong  for  once. 
The  judge  was  the  only  man  in  the  city 
who  did  not  know  anything  about  their 
quarrels.  The  harmless  old  man  was 
busy  preparing  his  leroy  and  fancied  he 
was  saving  the  world. 

He  received  them  as  he  received  ev- 
erybody, kindly  and  w^th  perfect  polite- 
ness. 

"Show  your  tongues,  my  children,  I 
will  soon  give  you  a  prescription. 


200  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

Both  waved  their  arms  to  shoAv  it  was 
not  for  a  prescription  they  had  come. 
Miss  Is'euman  repeated:  "It  is  not  that 
we  want." 

"What  is  it  then?" 

Both  talked  at  once.  To  Hans's  one 
word  Miss  Neuman  had  ten.  At  last  the 
lady  hit  upon  means  to  make  him  under- 
stand; she  pointed  at  her  heart,  to  show 
how  wounded  it  was  by  Hans  Kasche's 
behavior. 

The  judge's  face  brightened.  "I  un- 
derstand," he  said,  "I  understand." 

Then  he  opened  a  book  and  began  to 
write.  He  asked  Hans  his  age.  "Thirty- 
six."  Then  he  asked  the  lady:  she  did 
not  remember  accurately,  but  thought 
it  was  about  twenty-five.     "All  right!" 

"What  Christian  name?  Hans-Lora. 
All  right!" 

"What  occupation?"  "Storekeepers." 
"All  right!"  Then  a  few  other  questions 
Y^']lich  they  did  not  understand,  but  an- 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  201 

swered  yes.  The  judge  nodded  all  was 
over. 

He  left  off  writing,  rose,  and  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  Lora  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks.  She  took 
this  for  a  good  omen,  and  full  of  pleasant 
anticipation  returned  home. 

''I  will  show  you  now  who  has  got  the 
upper  hand,"  said  Miss  Neuman. 

"You  will  show  some  one  else  then," 
said  the  German  quietly. 

The  next  morning  the  sheriff  passed 
near  the  stores.  Both  stood  at  their 
doors.  Hans  puffed  at  his  pipe.  Miss 
Neuman  was  singing. 

"Do  you  wish  to  go  to  the  judge?" 
asked  the  sheriff. 

"We  have  been  there." 

"Well,  what  does  he  say?" 

"Dear  Sheriff,  good  Herr  Davis,  go 
and  ask  him  what  he  intends  to  do;  and 
please  say  a  word  for  me.  You  see,  I 
am  a  poor,  lonely  girl.  I  shall  visit  you 
soon  as  I  am  in  want  of  boots." 


202  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

The  sheriff  left,  but  returned  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour — and  for  some  in- 
explicable reason  was  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  people. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  both  liti- 
gants, eagerly. 

"It's  all  right!  It's  all  right!"  said 
the  sheriff. 

"And  what  has  the  judge  done  for 
us?" 

"What  should  he  have  done?  He  has 
married  you!" 

"Married  us?" 

"What  is  there  so  astonishing  in  that? 
People  do  marry." 

If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  in  their 
midst  they  could  not  have  been  more 
startled.  Hans  opened  his  eyes  and 
mouth  and  stared  stupidly  at  Miss  Neu- 
man,  and  Miss  ISTeuman  stared  in  blank 
amazement  at  Hans. 

"I  to  be  his  wife?" 

"I  to  be  her  husband?" 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  203 

"Oh  hoiTor!  never!  We  must  have  a 
divorce  at  once!" 

"I  would  rather  die  than  live  with  the 
man.  We  must  get  divorced ;  oh,  what  a 
misfortune!" 

"My  dears,"  said  the  sheriff  quietly, 
"what  is  the  use  of  all  this  noise?  The 
judge  can  marry  you,  but  he  cannot  di- 
vorce you.  What  is  there  to  cry  out 
about?  Are  you  millionaires  to  be  able 
to  go  for  a  divorce  to  San  Francisco?  Do 
you  know  what  it  will  cost  you  ?  Take  it 
easy.  I  have  beautiful  baby  shoes,  sell 
'em  you  cheap.    Good  bye!" 

Saying  this,  he  went  on  his  way.  The 
people  dispersed  laughing,  and  the  newly 
married  couple  remained  alone. 

"It's  that  Frenchman,"  exclaimed  the 
bride.  "He  has  done  it  on  purpose, 
knowing  we  are  both  Germans." 

"Richtig  (correct),"  replied  Hans. 

"But  we  will  have  a  divorce." 

"I  agree  with  you  there,  Miss.    What 


204  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

a  mean  thing  it  was  for  you  to  scratch 
that  letter  out." 

"I  was  not  the  first  to  begin;  you 
caught  me  in  a  spring  trap." 

"I  don't  care  for  you,  Miss." 

"I  hate  yon." 

Upon  this  they  separated  and  shut  up 
their  stores.  She  remained  shut  up  all 
the  day,  thinking;  and  he  did  the  same. 
Night  brings  rest  and  peace.  They  re- 
tired, but  could  not  sleep.  He  thought: 
"There  sleeps  my  wife."  She  thought: 
"There  sleeps  my  husband."  And 
strange  feelings  grew  up  in  their  liearts. 
It  was  still  anger  and  hatred,  but  with 
them,  an  overwhelming  sensation  of 
loneliness.  Beside  that  Hans  thought  of 
the  sig-n  board  over  his  door.  He  would 
not  let  it  remain  now,  it  was  a  caricature 
of  his  wife.  And  it  struck  him  that  after 
all  it  had  been  a  mean  thing  to  have  had 
it  painted  and  hung  up  there.  But  then 
he  hated  her;  it  was  through  her  his  ice 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  205 

tliawed;  it  v/as  true  lie  had  caught  her 
in  a  trap;  and  he  saw  again  before  his 
eves  the  pretty,  bare  feet,  %vith  the  moon- 
light playing  upon  them.  She  is  a  nice 
enough  girl,  but  she  hates  me  and  I  do 
not  like  her.  What  a  situation,  Ach ! 
Herr  Gott!"  to  be  married  to  Miss  iSTeu- 
man.  And  a  divorce  costs  so  much  mon- 
ey, that  all  his  savings  would  be  insuffi- 
cient to  cover  the  expense. 

''I  am  the  wife  of  that  Dutchman," 
said  Miss  !N^euman  to  herself.  "I  am 
no  longer  a  maiden,  but  a  married  wo- 
man. And  to  think  that  I  am  married 
to  that  fellow  Kasche  who  caught  me  in 
a  springtrap.  It's  true,  he  took  me  in 
his  arms  and  carried  me  upstaire.  How 
strong  he  is.     What  noise  is  that?" 

There  was  no  noise,  but  Miss  ISTeuman 
was  frightened,  she,  who  had  never  been 
frightened  before.  "It's  ver>'  lonely  for 
a  single  woman;  it  would  be  different 
with  a  man  in  the  house.     Murders  had 


206  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

been  committed  before  on  lonely  wometi 
(she  had  not  thought  of  it  before),  some- 
body might  kill  and  rob  her  some  day. 
And  to  think  that  now  that  man  Kasche 
has  barred,  me  from  matrimony.  We 
must  soon  get  a  divorce,  there's  comfort 
in  that." 

Thinking  and  thinking  she  turned 
restlessly  in  her  bed. 

Suddenly  she  started,  yes  there  was 
a  noise,  she  had  not  been  mistaken.  In 
the  stillness  of  the  night  she  distinctly 
heard  the  knocking  of  a  hammer. 

'^Good  Lord!"  screamed  the  lady, 
"some  burglar  is  trying  to  get  into  the 
store." 

She  jumped  from  her  bed,  put  on  her 
wi-apper  and  vushed  to  the  window;  but 
what  she  saw  there  completely  restored 
the  balance  of  her  mind.  By  the  light  of 
the  moon  she  saw  a  ladder,  and  perched 
on  it  the  comfortable  looking  Hans,  who, 
hammer  in  hand,  knocked  out  one  by 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  207 

one  the  nails  which  fastened  the  sign- 
board over  his  store. 

"It  is  good-natured  on  his  part,  he  is 
taking  down  the  monkey." 

And  she  felt  as  if  something  was  melt- 
ing in  her  heart. 

Now  the  nails  had  all  been  withdrawn 
and  the  plate  came  rattling  to  the 
ground.  Then  he  descended,  knocked 
off  the  frame^  rolled  the  sheet  into  a 
tube,  and  then  removed  the  ladder. 

The  lady  followed  all  his  motions  with 
her  eyes.  The  night  was  quiet  and 
warm. 

"Herr  Hans!"  called  she  in  a  low  tone. 

"You  are  not  asleep.  Miss  ?"  whispered 
Hans. 

"No;  good  evening,  Herr  Hans." 

"Good  evening.  Miss." 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

"I  have  taken  down  the  monkey." 

"Thank  you,  Herr  Hans." 

After  that  there  was  a  slight  pause. 


208  A  Comedy  of  Errors. 

"Herr  Hans,"  whispered  again  the 
voice  from  the  window. 

"What  is  it,  Friiulein  Lora?" 

"We  must  consult  about  the  divorce." 

"Yes." 

"To-morrow?" 

"To-morrow." 

Again  a  slight  pause.  The  moon  look- 
ed quietly  on  and  there  seemed  to  be  a 
laugh  on  his  broad  face.  Everything 
was  so  quiet,  not  even  a  dog  was  barking. 

"HerrHans!" 

"Well,  Friiulein  Lora?" 

"I  am  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  that  di- 
vorce." Her  voice  sounded  a  little  plain- 
tive. 

"So  am  I,  Fraulein  Lora."  And  his 
voice  sounded  sad. 

"You  see,  there  ought  not  to  be  any 
delay." 

"ISo,  it  is  better  not  to  delay." 

"The  sooner  we  talk  it  over  the  bet- 
ter." 


A  Comedy  of  Errors.  209 

"The  better,  Fraulein  Lora." 
"We  might  talk  it  over  at  once." 
"If  you  think  so,  we  will." 
"You  can  come  up  into  my  room." 
The  door  opened  gently,  Hans  disap- 
peared within,  and  presently  found  him- 
self in  Miss  Neuman's  neat  and  pleasant 
room.     She  wore  a  white  dressing  gown 
and  looked  very  pretty. 

"You  see,  it  will  cost  us  a  deal  of 
money  to  get  a  divorce." 

"Do  you  think  anybody  can  see  us 
from  below?" 

"No,  the  windows  are  dark." 
Then  began  a  conversation  about  the 
divorce  which  does  not  belong  to  our 
tale. 

Peace  returned  to  Struck  Oil  City. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF 

Henry  Altemus  Company 

PHILADELPHJA 

ALTEMUS'  ILLUSTRATED  VADEMECUM   SERIES. 

Containing  the  most  popular  works  of  standard 
authors.  Handy  Voi^ume,  Large  Type  editions, 
•with  appropriate  test  and  full-page  illustrations. 
Superior  paper  and  printing.  Illuminated  title 
pages,  etched  portraits,  and  original  aquarelle 
frontispieces  in  eight  colors. 

Pull  cloth,  ivory  finish ,  embossed  gold  and  inlaid 
colors,  with  side  titles,  boxed,  40  cents. 


1  Abbe  Constantin.    Halevy. 

2  Adventures  of  a  Brownie.    Mulock. 

3  Alice's     Adventures     in     Wonderland. 

Carroll. 

4  American  Notes.    Kipling. 

5  Antoblograptiy  of  Benjamin  Franklin. 

6  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table.  Holmes. 

7  A  Son  of  the  Carolinas.    Satlerthwaite . 

8  Antony  and  Cleopatra.     Shakespeare 

9  A  Midsummer  Night'&  Dream.    Shakes- 

peare. 

11  Bab  Ballads  and  Savoy  Songs.     Gilbert. 

12  Bacon's  Essays. 

13  Balzac's  Shorter  Stories. 

14  Barrack-Room      Ballads     and     Ditties. 

Kipling. 

15  Battle  of  Life.    Dickens. 

16  Biglow  Papers.     Lowell. 

17  Black  Beauty.    Sezvell. 

18  Blithedale  Romance,  The.    Hawthorne. 

19  Bracebridge  Hall.    Irving. 

20  Bryant's  Poems. 


Altemus'  New  Illustrated  Vademecum  Series.— Gontlnuetf 

...  21  Beecher's  Addresses. 

...  22  Best  Thoughts.     Henry  Drummond. 

...  23  Brook's  Addresses. 

...  24  Black  Rock.     Connor. 

...  26  Camille.     Dumas,  Jr. 

...  27  Carmen.    Merimee. 

...  28  Charlotte  Temple.    Rowson. 

...  29  Chesterfield's    Letters,    Sentences    and 

Maxims. 
...  30  Child's  Garden  of  Verses.    Stevenson. 
...  31  Chlide  Harold's  Pilgrimage.     Byron. 
...  32  Chimes,  The.     Dickens. 
...  33  Christie's  Old  Organ.     IValton. 
...  34  Christmas  Carol,  A.    Dickens. 
...  35  Confessions    of   an   Opium    Eater.      De 

Qziincy. 
...  36  Cranford.     Gaskell. 
...  37  Cricket  on  tlie  Hearth.    Dickens. 
...  38  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,  The.    Ruskin. 
...  39  Comedy  of  Errors.    Shakespeare. 
...  40  Crucifixion  of  Philip  Strong.    Sheldon, 
...  42  Courtship  oi  Miles  Standish.  Longfellow. 
...  43  Day  Breaketh,  The.    Shugert. 
...  44  Days    with     Sir    Roger   De    Coverley. 

Addisoii. 
...  45  Discourses,  Epictetus. 
...  46  Dog  of  Fianders,  A.     Ouida. 
...  47  Dream  Life.     JSHtcheil. 
...  48  Daily  Food  for  Christians. 
...  49  Drummond's  Addresses. 
...  51  Eir.erson's  Es.says,  First  Series. 
...  52  Emerson's  Essays,  Second  Series. 
...  53  Endymion.    Keats. 
...  54  Essays  of  E!ia.    Lamb. 
...  55  Ethics  of  the  Dust.    Ruskin. 
...  56  Evangeline.    Longfelhw. 


Altemus'  New  Illustiated  Vadeinscum  Series.— Gontlnuod 

...  57  Elizabeth  and  Her  Qerimaa  (jaiden, 

...  58  Englishwoman's  Love  Letters. 

...  61  Fairy  Land  of  Science.    Buckley. 

...  62  Panchon.    Sand. 

...  63  For  Daiiy   Bread.    Sienkiezvicz. 

...  67  Grammar  of  Palmistry.    Si.  Hill., 

...  68  Greek  Heroes.    Kingsley. 

...  69  Gulliver's  Travels.    Szvift. 

...  70  Gold  Dust. 

...  73  Hamlet.     Shakespeare. 

...  74  liania.    Sienkiewic::. 

...  75  Haunted  Man,  The.    Dickens. 

...  76  Heroes  and  Hero  Worship.    Carlyle. 

...  77  Hiawatha,  The  Song  of.    Longfellow. 

...  78  Holmes'  Poems. 

...  79  House  of  the  Seven  Gables.    Hawthorne, 

...  80  House  of  the  Wo!f.     Wey.nan. 

...  81  Hyperion.    Longfelloiv. 

...  87  Idle  Thoughts  of  an  IdJe  Fellow.  Jerome. 

...  S8  idyils  of  the  King,     l^ennyson. 

...  89  ImpregnafcJe   Rock    of   Holy    Scrlpturor 

Gladstone. 
...  90  In  Black  and  White.    Kipling. 
...  91  in  Memorianj.     Te^inyson. 
...  92  Imitation  of  Christ.    A'Kempis. 
...  93  In  His  Steps.     Sheldon. 
...  95  Julius  CjBsar.    Shakespeare. 
...  96  Jessica's  First  Prayer.    Stretton, 
...  97  J.  Cole.     Gellibrand. 
«..  98  John  Ploughman's  Pictures.    Spurgeon. 
...  99  John  Ploughman's  Talk.    Spurgeon, 
...100  King  Richard  ESI.    Shakespeare. 
...loi  Kavanagh.    Long/ellozv. 
...102  Kidnapped.     Stevenson. 
...103  Knickerbocker's  Kbtory  of  New  York. 

Irving. 


Altemus'  New  Illustrated  Vademecum  Series.— Continued 

...104  Keble's  Chrlstcan  Year. 

...105  Kept  for  the  Master's  Use.    Havergal. 

...106  King  Lear.    Shakespeare. 

...107  La  Belle  Nivernaise.    Daudet. 

...108  Laddie  and  Miss  Toosey's  Mission. 

...109  Lady  of  the  Lake.    Scott. 

...no  Lalla  Rookh.    Moore. 

...Ill  Last  Essays  of  Elia.     Lamb. 

...112  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome,  The.     Macaulay. 

...113  Let  Us  Follow  Him.    Sienkiewicz. 

...114  Light  of  Asia.     Arnold. 

...11$  Light  That  Failed,  The.    Kiplhtg. 

...116  Little  Lame  Prince.    Mulock. 

...117  Longfellow's  Poems,  Vol.  I. 

...118  Longfellow's  Poems,  Vol.  II. 

...119  Lowell's  Poems. 

...120  Luciie.     Meredith. 

...121  Line  Upon  Line. 

...126  Magic  Nuts,  The.    MolesTvorih. 

...127  Manon  Lescaut.    Prevost. 

...1 28  Marmion.    Scott. 

...129  Master  of  Ballantrae,  The.    Stevenson. 

...130  Milton's  Poems. 

...131  Mine  Ov.'n  People.    Kipling. 

...132  Minister  of  the  Vv^orld,  A.    Mason. 

...133  Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse.    Hawthorne. 

...134  Mulvaney  Stories.    Kipling. 

...13S  Macbeth.     Shakespeare. 

...140  Natural    Law   in   the   Spiritual    World. 

Drionnwnd. 
...141  Nature,  Addresses  and  Lectures. 

Emerson . 
...145  Old  Christmas.     Irving. 


Altemus'  New  Illustrated  Vademecum  Series.— Gontlnafli 

.,.146  Outre-Mer.     Longfellow. 

...147  Othello,  the  Moor  of  Venice.  Shakespeare, 

...150  Paradise  Lost.    Milton. 

...151  Paradise  Regained.    Milton. 

...152  Paul  and  Virginia.    Sainte  Pierre. 

...154  Phantom  Rickshaw.    Kipling. 

-..155  Pilgrim's  Progress,  The.    Bunyan, 

...156  Plain  Tales  from  the  Hills.    Kipling. 

...157  Pleasures  of  Life.    Lubbock. 

...158  Plutarch's  Lives. 

...159  Poe's  Poems. 

...160  Prince  of  the  House  of  David.  Ingraham. 

...161  Princess  and  Maud.     Tennyson. 

...162  Prue  and  I.    Curtis. 

...163  Peep  of  Day. 

...164  Precept  Upon  Precept. 

...169  Queen  of  the  Air.    Ruskin. 

...172  Rab  and  His  Friends.    Brown. 

...173  Representative  Men.    Emerson. 

...174  Reveries  of  a  Bachelor.    Mitchell. 

...175  Rip  Van  Winkle.    Irving. 

...176  Romance  of  a  Poor  Young  Man.    Feuillet, 

...177  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam. 

...178  Romeo  and  Juliet.    Shakespeare. 

...179  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days.    Sheldon. 

...182  Samantha  at  Saratoga.    Holley. 

...183  Sartor  Resartus.    Carlyle. 

...184  Scarlet  Letter,  The.    Hawthorne. 

...185  School  for  Scandal.    Sheridan. 

...186  Sentimental  Journey,  A.    Sterne. 

...187  Sesame  and  Lilies.    Ruskin. 

...188  Shakespeare's  Heroines.    Jameson. 

...189  She  Stoops  to  Conquer.    Goldsmith. 


Altemus'  New  Illustraled  Vademecum  series.— Continued 

,..190  Silas  Marner.    Eliot. 
...191  Sketch  Book,  The.     Irving. 
...192  Sno-w  Imase,  The,     Hazuthorne. 
...193  The  Sliadowless  Man.     Chatnisso. 
...199  Tales  frorti  Shakespeare.    Lamb. 
...200  Tanglewood  Tales.    Ilaivthorne. 
...20I  Tartarin  of  Tarascon.    Daudet. 
...202  Tartarin  on  the  Alps.     Daudet. 
...203  Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar-Room.    Arthur. 
...204  Things  Will  Take  a  Turn.     Harraden. 
...205  Thoughts.    Marcus  Aurelius. 
...206  Throush  The  Looking  Glass.     Carroll. 
...207  Tom  Brown's  5choo3  Days.    Hughes. 
...2c8  Treasure  Island.    Stevenson. 
...209  Twice  Told  Tales.    Hazvthorne. 
..210  Two  Years  Before  the  Mast.    Dana. 
...211  The  Merchant  of  Venice.     Shakespeare. 
...212  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Shakespeare. 

...217  UncEe  Tom's  Cabin.    Slowe. 

...218  Undine.     Fouque. 

...222  Vic,  the  autobiography  of  a  fox-terrier. 

Marsh. 
...223  Vicar  of  Wakefield.     Goldsmith. 
...224  Visits  of  Elizabeth,  The.     Glyn. 
...226  Walden.     Thoreau. 
...227  Water-Babies.    Kingsley. 
...228  Weird  Taies.    Poe. 
...229  What  is  Art.     Tolstoi. 
...230  Whittier's  Poems,  Vol.  I. 
...231  Whittier's  Poems,  Vo!.  II. 
...233  Window  in  Thrums.     Barrie. 
...233  Women's  Work  in  the  Home.    Farrar. 
...2^4  Wonder  Book,  A.    Hawthorne. 
...241  Vellowptash  Papers,  The.      Thackeray. 
...244  Zoe.    By  author  of  Laddie,  etc. 


Altemus'  Youna  Peoples'  Library.— Centlnued. 


Altemus'  Dainty  Series  of 
Choice  Gift  Books. 

PRICE.  50  CENTS. 


Bound  in  half-white  Vellum,  illuminated  sides, 
unique  design  in  gold,  wilh  numerous  half-tone 
illustrations.     Size,  6)4  x  S  inches. 

...  I  The  Silver  Buckle.    By  M.  Nataline  Crump- 
ton.     With   12  illustrations. 
...  2  Charles  Dickens'  Children  Stories.     With 

30  illustrations. 
...  3  The    Children's   Shakespeare.      With     30 

illustrations. 
...  4  Young  Robin  Hood.     By  G.  Manville  Fenn. 

With  30  illustrations. 
...  5  Honor  Bright.     By  Mary  C.  Rowsell.     With 

24  illustrations. 
...  6TheVoyageof  the  Mary  Adair.  By  Frances 

E.  Crompton.     With  19  illustrations. 
...  7  The  Kingfisher's  Egg.    By   L.   T.   Meade. 

With  24  illustrations. 
...  8  Tattine.     By  Ruth  Ogden.      With  24  illus- 
trations. 
...  9  The  Doings  of  1  Dear  Little  Couple.    By 

Mary  D.  Brine.     With  20  illustrations. 
...ID  Our  Soldier  Boy.     By  G.    Manville   Fenn. 

With  23  illustrations. 
...II  The  Little  Skipper.    By  G.  Manville  Fenn. 

With  22  illustrations. 
...12  Little  Oervaise  and  other  Stories.    With 

22  illustrations. 
...13  The   Christmas    Fairy.     By  John  Strange 

Winter.     With  24  illustrations. 
...14  Molly,  The  Drummer  Boy.     Crompton. 


Heijry'  ARemus'  Publications. 


ALTEMUS'  Illustrated 

ONE  SYLLABLE  SERIES  FOR  YOUNG  READERS. 


Embracing  popular  ■works  arranged  for  the 
young  folks  in  words  of  one  syllable. 

Printed  from  extra  large  clear  type  on  fine  en- 
amelled paper  and  fully  illustrated  by  famous 
artists.  The  handsomest  line  of  books  for  young 
children  before  the  public. 

Fine  English  cloth ;  handsome,  new,  original 
designs.     50  cents. 

1.  >Esop's  Fables.     62  illustrations. 

2.  A  Child's  Life  of  Christ.     49  illustrations. 

3.  A  Child's  Story  of  the    Bible.       72  illus- 

trations. 

4.  The  Adventures  of  Robinson  Crusoe.      70 

illustrations. 

5.  Bunyan's   Pilgrim's   Progress.       46    illus- 

trations. 

6.  Swiss  Family  Robinson.     50  illustrations. 

7.  Gulliver's  Travels.    50  illustrations. 

8.  Bible  Stories  for  Little  Children.    80  illus- 

trations. 


ALTEMUS* 

YouNQ  Peoples*  Library. 

PRICE.  50  CENTS  EACH. 


Robinson  Crusoe.  (Chiefly  in  words  of  one 
syllable.)  His  life  and  strange,  surprising 
adventures,  with  70  beautiful  illustrations  by 
Walter  Paget. 

Alice's  Adventures  in  Wonderland.  With  42 
illustrations  by  John  Tenniel.  "  The  most  de- 
lightful of  children's  stories.  Elegc'^!:  and 
delicious  nonsense." — "Saturday  Review." 

Through   the   Looking-glass  and  what  Alice 
Found  There.    A  companion  to   "  Alice  in 
Wonderland,"  with   50   illustrations  by  John 
Tenniel. 
. — - I 


Altemus'  Youno  Peoples'  Library.— Continued. 

Bunyan's  Pifgrfm's  Progress.  Arranged  for 
young  readers.  With  50  full-page  and  text 
illustrations. 

A  Child's  Story  of  the  Bible.  With  72  full-page 
illustrations. 

A  Child's  Life  of  Christ.  With  49  illustrations. 
Non-sectarian.  Children  are  early  attracted 
and  sweetly  riveted  by  the  wonderful  Story  of 
the  Master  from  the  Manger  to  the  Throne. 

Swiss  Family  Robinson.  With  50  illustrations. 
The  father  of  the  family  tells  the  tale  of  the 
vicissitudes  through  which  he  and  his  -wife  and 
children  pass,  the  wonderful  discoveries  made 
and  dangers  encountered.  The  book  is  full  of 
interest  and  instruction. 

Christopher  Columbus  and  the  Discovery  of 
America.  With  70  illustrations.  Every  Am- 
erican boy  and  girl  should  be  acquainted  with 
the  story  of  the  life  of  the  great  discoverer, 
with  its  straggles,  adventures  and  trials. 

The  Story  of  Exploration  and  Discovery  in 
Africa.  With  80  illustrations.  Records  the 
experiences  of  adventures  and  discoveries  in 
developing  the   "Dark  Continent." 

The  Fables  of  >Esop.  Compiled  from  the  best 
accepted  sources.  W^ith  62  illustrations.  The 
fables  of  .lEsop  are  among  the  very  earliest 
compositions  of  this  kind,  and  probably  have 
never  been  surpassed  for  point  and  brevity. 

Qulliver's  Travels.  Adapted  for  young  readers, 
with  50  illustrations. 

Mother  Goose's  Rhymes,  Jingles  and  Fairy 
Tales.     With  234  illustrations. 

Lives  of  the  Presidents  of  the  United  States. 

By  Prescott  Holmes.  With  portraits  of  the 
Presidents  and  also  of  the  unsuccessful  candi- 
dates for  the  ofBce  ;  as  well  as  the  ablest  of  the 
Cabinet  officers.     Revised  and  iip-to-date. 


Altemus'  Young  Peoples'  Library.— Gonlinued. 

Vic.  The  Autobiography  of  a  Fox-Terrior.  r>y 
^larie  IMore-Marcli.      With  24  illustrations. 

The  Story  of  Adventure  in  the  Frozen  Seas. 
With  70  illustrations.  By  Prescott  Holmes. 
The  book  shows  how  much  can  be  accomplished 
by  steady  perseverance  and  indomitable  pluck. 

iiiustrated  Natural  History.  By  the  Rev.  J.  G. 
Wood,  with  80  illustrations.  This  author  has 
done  more  to  popularize  the  .study  of  natural 
history  than  any  other  -writer.  The  illustrations 
are  striking  and  life-like. 

A  Child's  History  o9  England.  By  Charles 
Dickens,  with  50  illustrations.  Tired  of  listen- 
ing to  his  children  memorize  the  twaddle  of  old- 
fashioned  English  history,  the  author  covered 
the  ground  ia  his  own  peculiar  find  happy  style 
for  his  own  children's  use.  When  the  work 
was  published  its  success  was  instantaneous. 

Black  Beauty  :  The  Autobiography  of  a  Morse. 
By  Anna  Sewell,  with  50  illustrations.  This 
work  is  to  the  animal  kingdom  what  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  "  was  to  the  Afro- American. 

The  Arabian  Nights  Entertainnnents.  With 
130  illustrations.  Contains  the  most  favorably 
known  of  the  stories. 

Qrlmm's  Fairy  Tales.  With  55  illustrations. 
The  tales  are  a  wonderful  collection,  as  in- 
teresting, from  a  literary  point  of  view,  as  they 
are  delightful  as  stories. 

Flower  Fables.  By  Louisa  May  Alcott.  With 
numerous  illustrations,  full-page  and  text. 

A  series  of  very  interesting  fairy  tales  by  the 
most  charming  of  American  storj'-tellers. 

Aoder.seia's  Fairy  Tales.  By  Rans  Christian 
Andersen.     W^ith  77  illustrations. 

These  wonderful  tales  are  not  only  attractive 
to  the  young,  but  equally  acceptable  to  those 
of  mature  years. 


Altemus'  Young  Peoples*  Library.— continued. 


Grandfather's  Chair;  A  History  for  Youth.    By 

Nathaniel  Hav.'tborne.      With  60  illustrations. 
The  story  of  America  from  the  landing  of  the 
Puritans  to  the  acknowledgment  without  re- 
serve of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States. 

Aunt  Martha's  Corner  Cupboard.  By  Mary  and 
Elizabeth  Kirbv,  with  60  illustrations.  Stories 
about  Tea,  Coffee,  Sugar,  Rice  and  Chinaware, 
and  other  accessories  of  the  well-kept  Cupboard. 

Bstties  of  the  War  for  Independence.  By 
Prescott  Holmes,  with  70  illusiratious.  A 
graphic  and  full  history  of  the  Rebellion  of  the 
American  Colonies  from  the  yoke  and  oppres- 
sion of  England.  Including  a'lso  an  account  of 
the  second  war  with  Great  Britain,  and  the 
War  with  Mexico. 

Battles  of  the  War  for  the  Union.  By  Prescott 
Holmes,  with  80  illustrations.  A  correct  and 
«>«/>ar^xa/ account  of  the  greatest  civil  war  in 
the  annals  of  history.  Both  of  these  histories 
of  American  wars  are  a  necessary  part  of  the  edu- 
cation of  all  intelligent  American  boys  and  girl?. 

Water  Babies.  By  Charles  Kingsley,  with  S4 
illustrations.     A  charming  fairy  tale. 

Young  People's  History  of  the  War  with  Spain. 
By  Prescott  Holmes,  with  86  illustrations.  The 
story  of  the  war  for  the  freedom  of  Cuba, 
arranged  for  young  readers. 

Heroes  of  the  United  States  Navy.  By  Hart- 
well  James,  with  65  illustrations.  From  the 
days  of  the  Revolution  until  the  end  of  the 
War  with  Spain. 

Military  Heroes  of  the  United  States.  B7 
Hartwell  James,  with  nearly  ioo  illustrations. 
Their  brave  deeds  from  Lexington  to  Santiago, 
told  in  a  captivating  manner. 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  By  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe, 
with  50  illustrations.  Arranged  for  young 
readers. 

Tales  from  Shakespeare.  By  Charles  and  Mary 
Lamb.     With  65  illustrations. 


Altemus'  Young  Peoples'  Library.— Continued. 

Adventures  In  Toyland.    70  illustrations. 
Adventures  of  a  Brownie.    18  illustrations. 
Mixed  Pickies.     31  illustrations. 
Little  Lame  Prince.    24  illustrations. 
The  SSeepy  King.     77  illustrations. 
Romulus,  the  Founder  of  Rome.    With  49 

illustrations. 
Cyrus    the    Great,    the    Founder   of  the 

Persian  Empire.     With  40  illustrations. 
Darius  the  Great,  King  of  the  Mede&  and 

Persian.     With  34  illustrations. 
Xerxes  the  Great,  King  of  Persia.    With 

39  illustrations. 
Alexander   the  Great,  King  of  Macedon. 

With  51  illustrations. 
Pyrrhus,  King  of   Epirus.     With  45  illus- 
trations. 
Hannibal,  the  Carthaginian.     With  37  illus- 
trations. 
Julius    Cassar,  the   Roman    Conqueror. 

With  44  illustrations. 
Alfred  the  Great,  of  England.    With  40 

illustrations. 
William  the  Conqueror,  of  England.  With 

43  illustrations. 
Hernando    Cortez,  the    Conqueror    of 

Mexico.     With  30  illustrations. 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  With  45  illustrations. 
Queen    Elizabeth,    of    England.    With  49 

illustrations. 
King  Charles  the  First,  of  England.    With 

41  illustrations. 
King  Charles   the  Second,    of    England. 

With  38  illustrations. 
Maria  Antoinette,  Queen  of  France.    With 

41  illustrations. 
Madam  Roland,  A  Heroine  of  the  French 

Revolution.     With  42  illustrations. 
Josephine,  Empress  of  France.    With  40 

illustrations. 


ALTEMUS'  ILLUSTRATED  DEVOTIONAL  SERIES 


An  entirely  new  line  of  popular  Religious  L,itera= 
ture,  carefully  printed  on  fine  paper,  daintily  and 
durably  bound  in  hand}'  volume  size. 

Full  White  Vellum,  handsome  new  mosaic  design 
in  gold  and  colors,  gold  edges,  boxed,  50  cents. 

...  I  Abide  in  Christ.    Murray. 

...  3  Beecher's  Addresses. 

...  4  Best  Tlioughts.    From  Henry  DrummonSm 

...  5  Bible  Birthday  Boole. 

...  6  Brooks'  Addresses. 

...  7  Buy  Your  Own  Cherries,    Kirton. 

...  8  Changed  Cross,  The. 

...  9  Christian  Life.     Oxenden. 

...10  Christian  Living.     Meyer. 

...12  Christie's  Old  Organ.     Walton, 

...13  Coming  to  Christ.    Havergal. 

...14  Daily  Food  for  Christians. 

...15  Day  Breaketh,  The.    Shugert. 

...17  Drummond's  Addresses, 

...18  Evening  Thoughts.    Havergal. 

...19  Gold  Dust. 

...20  Holy  in  Christ. 

...21  Imitation  of  Christ,  The.    A* Kempis. 

...22  Impregnabte  Rock  of  Holy  Scripture. 

Gladstone^ 

...23  Jessica's  First  Prayer.    Stretton. 

...24  John   Ploughman's   Pictures.     Spurgeon, 

...25  John  Ploughman's  Talk.    Spurgeon. 

...26  Kept  for  the  Master's  Use.    Havergal. 

...27  Keble's  Christian  Year. 

...28  Let  Us  Follow  Him.    Sienkiewicz, 

...29  Like  Christ.    Murray. 

...30  Line  Upon  Line. 

...31  Manliness  of  Christ,  The.    Hughes. 


Jenry  Alteznus*  PuSMcations. 


32  Message  of  Peace,  The.     Church. 

33  Morning  Thoughts.     Havergal. 

34  My  King  and  His  Service.    Havergal. 

35  Natural  Law  in  the  Spiritual  World. 
^    ,  ,  Drummond. 

37  Pathway  of  Promise. 

38  Pathway  of  Safety.     Oxenden. 

39  Peep  of  Day. 

40  Pilgrim's  Progress,  The.    Bunyan. 

41  Precept  Upon  Precept. 

42  Prince  of  the  House  of  David.    Ingraham. 

44  Shepherd  Psalm.     Meyer. 

45  Steps  Into  the  Blessed  Life.     Meyer. 

46  Stepping  Heavenward.     Prentiss. 

47  The  Throne  of  Grace. 
50  With  Christ.    Murray. 

The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic  (a  History).  By  John  Loth- 
rop  Motley.  55  full-page  half-tone  Engrarings.  Complete  in 
two  volumes — over  1,600  pages.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  per  set, 
J2.00.     Half  Morocco,  gilt  top,  per  set,  ^3  25. 

Quo  Vadis.  A  tale  of  the  time  of  Nero,  by  Henryk  Sienkiewici. 
Complete  and  unabridged.  Translated  by  Dr.  S.  A.  Binion. 
Illustrated  by  M.  De  Lipman.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  ornamen- 
tal, SIS  pages,  $1.25. 

With  Fire  end  Sword.  By  the  author  of  "Quo  Vadis."  A 
tale  of  the  past.     Illustrated.     Crown  8vo.     825  pages,  Ji.oo. 

Pan  Michael.  By  the  author  of  "  Quo  Vadis."  A  historical 
tale.     Illustrated.     Crown  8vo.     530  pages,  Ji.oo. 

Julian,  the  Apostate.  By  S.  Mcreshkovski.  Illustrated.  Cloth 
i2mo.     450  pages,  Ji.oo. 

Manual  of  riythology.  For  the  use  of  Schools,  Art  Studenti, 
and  General  Readers,  by  Alexunder  S.  Murray.  With  Notes, 
Revisions,  and  Additions  by  V/illiam  II.  Klapp.  With  200 
illustrations  and  an  exhaustive  Index.  Large  izmo.  Over 
400  pages,  $1.25. 

The  Age  of  Fable ;  or  Beauties  of  Mythology.  By  Thomas 
Bulfinch,  with  Notes,  Revisions,  and  Additions  by  William  H. 
Klapp.  With  200  illustrations  and  an  exhaustive  Index.  Large 
i2mo.     450  pages,  ^1.23. 

Stephen.  A  Soldier  of  the  Cross.  By  Fbrence  Mor»e 
Kingsley,  author  of  "Titus,  a  Comrade  of  tbe  Cross."  Cloth, 
lamo.     369  pages,  jji.oo. 


Heno'  Altemus'  Publications. 


The  CroB5  Triumphant.  By  Florence  Morse  Kingsley,  author 
of  "  Paul  and  Stephen."     Cloth,  121110.     364  pages,  Ji.oo. 

Paul.  A  Herald  of  the  Cross.  By  Florence  Morse  Kingsley. 
Cloth,  lamo.     450  pagei,  Ji.»o. 

The  Pilurim's  Projrens,  a»  John  Bunyan  wrote  it.  A  fac- 
simile reproduction  of  the  first  edition,  published  in  1678 
Antique  cloth,  i2mo.     J1.25. 

The  Fairest  of  the  Fair.  By  Hildegarde  Hawthorne.  Cloth, 
icmo.     J1.25. 

Around  the  World  in  Eighty  Minutes.  Contain*  oyer  10. 
photographs  of  the  most  famous  places  and  edifices,  with  des- 
criptive text.     Cloth,  50  cents. 

Sbakespeare'5  Complete  Works.  With  64  Boydill,  and 
numerous  oiher  ulustraiion.^,  four  volumes,  over  a,ooo  pages. 
Half  Morocco,  i2mo.     Boxed,  per  set.  J3.00. 

The  Care  of  Children.  By  Elizabeth  R.  Seovil.  Cloth,  i2mo. 
$1.00 

Preparation  for  Motherhood.  By  Elizabeth  R.  Seovil.  Cloth, 
ismo.     320  pa^es,  gi.oo. 

Baby's  Requirements.  By  Elizabeth  R.  Seovil.  Limp  bind- 
ing, leatherette.    25  cents. 

Names  for  Children.  By  Elizabeth  Robinson  Seovil.  Cloth, 
i2mo.     40  cents. 

Trif  and  Trl.\y.  By  John  Habberton,  author  of  "  Helen's 
Babies."     Cloth,  i2mo.     50  cents. 

She  Who  Will  Not  When  She  May.  By  Eleanor  G.  Walton. 
Half-tone  illustrations  by  C.  P.  M.  Rumford.  "An  exquisite 
prose  idyll."     Cloth,  gilt  top,  deckle  edges.     Ji.oo. 

A  Son  of  the  Carollnas.  By  C.  E.  Satterthwaite.  Cloth, 
izmo.     280  pages,  50  cents. 

What  Women  Shotdd  Know.  By  Mrs.  E.  B.  Duffy.  Cloth, 
320  pages,  73  cents. 

Dore  Masterpieces. 

The  Dore  Bible  Oallery.     Containing  100  full-page  engravings 

by  Gustave  Dore. 
Milton's  Paradise  Lost.    With  50  full-page  engravings  by  Gus- 
tave Dore. 
Dante's    Inferno.      With   75    full-page   engravings    by   Gustave 

Dore. 
Dante's  Purgatory  and  Parsdise.    With  60  full-page  engr»»- 

ings  by  Gustave  Dore. 
Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the  KJng.  With  37  full  page  engravings 

by  Gustave  Dore. 
The   Rime   of   the   Ancient   Harlner.      By  Samuel  Taylor 

Coleridge,  with  46  fall-page  engravings  by  Gustave  Dore. 

Cioth,  ornamental,  large  quarto  (9  -x  i-J).     Each  jfj.oo. 

i 


ALTEMUS'  EDITION  SHAKESPEARE'S  PLAYS. 
HANDY  VOLUME  SIZE. 

With  a  historical  and  critical  introduction  to  each 
volume,  by  Professor  Henry  Motley. 


Limp  cloth  binding,  gold  top,  illuminated  title 

and  frontispiece 35  cts. 

Paste-grain  roan,  flexible,  gold  top    ...  50  cts. 

I.  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 

a.  Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

3.  A  Alidsummer  Night's  Dream. 

4.  As  You  Like  It. 

5.  Comedy  of  Errors. 
^.  Ceriolanus. 

7.  Cvmbetine. 

8.  Hamlet. 

9.  Julius  Caesar. 

10.  King  Henry  IV.    (Part  I.) 

11.  King  Henry  IV.    (Part  11.) 
12  King   Henry  V. 

13.  King  Henry  VI.    (Part  I.) 

14  King  Henry  VI.    (Part  11.) 

1^  King  Henry  VI.    (Part  III.) 

16.  King  Henry  VIII. 

17.  King  John. 
il.  King  Lear. 

19.  King  Richard  II. 

30.  King  Richard  III. 

31.  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

32.  Macbeth. 

23.  Measure  for  Measure. 

24.  Much  Ado  About  Nothinc. 

25.  Othello. 
a6.  Pericles. 

27.  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

28.  The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

29.  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

30.  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

31.  The  Tempest. 

32.  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

33.  The  Winter's  Tale. 

34.  Timon  of  Athens. 

35.  Titus  Andronicus. 

36.  Troilus  and  Cressida. 

37.  Twelfth  Night. 

38.  Venus  and  Adonis  and  Lucrece. 
3$.  Sonnets,  Passionate  Pilgrim,  Etc. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY  ^ 

AA      000  244  828    0 


